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THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 


BY 


MARIAN   BOWER 


AND 


LEON   M.   LION 


«^^1^ 


NEW    YORK 

HENRY   HOLT  AND   COMPANY 

1919 


Copyright,  igig, 

BY 

HENRY  HOLT   AND  COMPANY 


THE    aUINN    «    90DCN    00.    PRISS 
RAHWAY,    N.   i. 


n  -  • 

. .   /  / :      , 

3i 
THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

CHAPTER  I 

Roger  de  la  Have  walked  slowly  out  of  the  open  door 
and  down  the  steps  of  a  certain  club  in  Piccadilly,  and 
then  pulled  up  to  look  at  the  scene  before  him.  He  was 
conscious  of  the  stream  of  human  beings  who  jostled 
him — of  the  men  who  stepped  out  of  his  way — of  the 
women  who  lifted  their  eyes  and  let  their  glances  tell  such 
a  variety  of  tales. 

Here  and  there  he  returned  the  look,  but  without  receiv- 
ing or  conveying  any  individual  impression,  for  his  mind 
was  so  taken  up  with  the  scene  that  in  one  sense  was  so 
familiar,  and  in  another  so  new. 

It  was  London  in  mid  June;  London  before  the  War 
was  anything  more  than  a  possibility  half  believed  in,  half 
regarded  as  a  guy  to  frighten  the  timorous. 

In  the  next  house  along  the  street,  the  window  boxes 
were  filled  with  pink  geraniums,  their  color  bleached  from 
them  by  the  summer  night  and  the  blaze  of  electricity, 
until  they  wore  a  transparent,  intangible  air. 

Across  the  road  were  the  railings  of  the  park,  sticking 
up  as  if  they  were  a  series  of  lances,  held  by  hands  that 
were  strong  and  yet  not  visible,  and  beyond  them  were 
clumps  of  trees,  their  leaves  leaves  no  longer,  but  the  pat- 
tern in  a  veil  of  mingled  mist  and  light ;  after  that  there 
was  the  undulating  stretch  of  grass,  which  had  lost  its 
green,  and  was  now  neutral-tinted  and  woolly  with  the 
moisture  overlaying  it,  while  everywhere  were  lights  and 
again  lights,  until  the  farthest  row  merged  themselves  in 
the  dip  of  the  sky,  of  that  British  sky,  which  was  soberly 

3 


4  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

purple  and  indigo,  and  had  none  of  the  garish  effects  of 
the  Eastern  one  that  Roger  had  left  behind  him. 

To  Roger  de  la  Haye  there  was  nothing  ordinary  in 
these  lights,  in  these  atmospheric  effects.  On  the  con- 
trary, they  held  for  him  both  the  delight  of  rediscovery 
and  of  contrast. 

Every  man  has  a  chord  in  his  being  that  vibrates  to  one 
particular  message  sent  through  the  perceptions.  With 
some,  it  is  the  sight  of  a  drop  of  dew  on  a  flower,  with 
others,  the  scent  of  a  rose;  again  the  glimmer  of  moon- 
light on  water  will  make  the  lip  of  the  hardest  soldier 
twist.  Napoleon,  it  was  said,  could  never  see  a  woman  in 
white,  walking  between  the  trees  in  a  green  avenue,  with- 
out feeling  the  throb  of  his  remarkably  steady  pulse. 

Women  go  less  by  phenomena  than  by  association.  The 
beauty  of  even  the  most  glorious  sunset  is  enhanced  by 
proximity;  the  memory  of  a  flower  is  less  a  thought  for 
its  color  than  of  the  hand  which  offered  it.  As  for  Roger, 
it  was  just  that  homely  scent  of  moist  earth  that  set  his 
mind  rejoicing  now. 

The  smell  carried  him  out  of  London  to  the  quaint  white 
house  at  Zouche  de  la  Haye.  It  reminded  him  of  all  his 
boyish  excitements,  of  going  out  to  shoot  a  rabbit,  of  th» 
tramp  down  the  plow,  of  the  misty  October  days,  of  the 
brown  leaves  curled  up  on  the  spikes  of  a  hedgerow. 

Latterly,  since  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  follow  the 
same  career  as  his  father,  and  had  set  himself  to  under- 
stand the  little  a  European  may  of  the  Oriental  mind,  he 
had  been  very  rarely  at  Zouche.  But  he  knew  exactly 
how  things  were  there.  The  next  day  he  proposed  to  go 
home.  The  next  evening,  if  the  weather  were  kind,  he 
and  his  mother  would  walk  out  of  the  long  French  win- 
dows across  the  terrace,  down  the  steps  into  the  garden. 
Lady  de  la  Haye  loved  flowers.  There  were  whole  beds 
full  of  roses,  red  roses  with  a  fragrance  that  scented  a 
whole  room,  new  since  he  was  there.  But  the  border 
under  the  Elizabethan  brick  wall  round  the  bowling-green 
was  quite  unchanged,  and  at  night  the  clumps  of   white 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  5 

pinks  would  look  like  cushions  for  fairies  to  lay  their 
heads  on,  just  as  they  had  done  when  he  was  seven 
years  old  and  fairies  were  as  real  to  him  as  Fido  the 
retriever. 

At  this  point  Roger,  coming  back  to  the  practical  mat- 
ters of  the  moment,  began  to  think  of  what  was  immedi- 
ately before  him.  It  was  something  greater  which  had 
caused  him  to  promise  to  put  in  an  appearance  at  this 
particular  dance  than  the  mere  desire  of  a  man  newly 
returned  from  distant  lands  for  any  amusement.  Indeed, 
so  little  did  the  invitation  concern  him,  as  an  invitation, 
that  while  he  recollected  the  number  of  the  house  in 
Grosvenor  Square,  the  name  of  his  hostess  had  slipped 
from  his  mind. 

The  previous  day  when  he  had  hurried  to  see  his  best 
friend,  Paul  Marketel,  Paul,  rather  to  his  amusement  had 
mentioned,  with  a  twist  about  his  strong  mouth,  that  he 
was  going  to  display  his  big  person  in  this  particular  ball- 
room. Roger  had  started  with  the  idea  that  he  would  like 
to  go  because  Paul  would  be  there,  and  then,  as  events, 
especially  diplomatic  events,  have  a  way  of  doing,  they 
took  an  unexpected  turn,  and  Roger  found  that  there 
would  be  convenience,  as  v/ell  as  pleasure,  in  thus  having 
an  opportunity  of  seeing  Paul,  for  he  wanted  to  say  a 
word  or  two  to  him  on  a  weighty  matter,  under  the  dis- 
guise of  frivolity. 

Roger  had  returned  from  Pekin  in  a  leisurely  fashion. 
He  had  spent  as  much  time  as  he  pleased  at  any  place 
which  interested  him,  and  so  when  he  eventually  found 
himself  in  London,  and  reported  himself  to  the  Foreign 
Office,  he  learned  that  China  had  made  one  of  those  spas- 
modic moves  which  give  indications  from  time  to  time 
of  what  she  might  be  capable,  should  it  ever  seem  good 
to  her  to  modernize  herself,  in  the  Western  acceptance  of 
the  term. 

This  particular  move  was  the  proposal  for  a  loan  for 
the  purpose  of  building  the  nucleus  of  a  Chinese  navy. 
The  British  Government  was  approached,  and  timorous,  as 


6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

usual,  about  hurting  foreign  susceptibilities  was  inclined  to 
temporize.  At  this  juncture  Paul  Marketel  stepped  in.  He 
offered  to  take  up  the  loan  himself,  provided  the  British 
Government  would  participate  to  the  extent  of  a  benevolent 
interest.  The  proposal  was  accepted,  and  it  became  evi- 
dent at  once  that  not  only  speed  was  necessary  to  carry 
through  the  affair,  but  secrecy  as  well.  The  German 
Intelligence  Service  has  always  been  particularly  well 
served  in  England,  and  Wilhelmstrasse  immediately  got  a 
hint  of  what  was  in  the  wind.  The  Far  East  has  always 
been  a  pressing  concern  of  the  German  diplomatic  mind, 
its  unavowed  aim  to  make  the  vast  Chinese  Empire  into 
an  exclusively  Teutonic  sphere  of  influence.  Therefore 
this  navy  loan  was  doubly  disconcerting.  First,  because 
Germany  resented  any  display  whatever  of  Chinese  initia- 
tive, and  secondly,  because  Chinese  initiative  backed  by 
British  support  was  especially  distasteful. 

A  note  was  received  by  the  Court  of  St.  James  suggest- 
ing an  international  conference,  and  Paul  knew  that  the 
only  way  to  circumvent  that  move  was  to  oppose  it  with 
the  fait  accompli  of  a  private  loan,  privately  arranged. 
It  was  at  this  point  that  Roger  came  in.  There  were 
reasons  why  it  was  particularly  suitable  that  he  should 
represent  the  British  Government  in  the  matter.  He  was 
to  play  that  role  as  unobtrusively  as  possible,  and  with  no 
official  standing,  but  the  arrangements  for  meeting  and 
discussion  were  left  in  his  hands,  and  it  was  his  intention 
to  settle  these  with  Paul  in  as  casual  a  fashion  as  possible, 
in  the  interval  between  one  dance  and  the  next. 

He  crossed  the  road  before  St.  George's  Hospital, 
skirting  in  and  out  of  the  buses  and  traffic  congregated 
there;  and  then,  as  an  unwished-for  reminder,  there  came 
to  him  the  remembrance  of  the  acrid  Chinese  smell ;  of 
that  evil  odor  which  every  Celestial  city — Pekin  perhaps 
less  than  most — seems  to  gather  up  and  blow  in  whiffs, 
in  and  out,  between  all  the  holes  and  corners  of  the  native 
houses  and  their  compounds,  and  then  on  through  those 
straight  streets  of  the   European  Settlement  which,   with 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  7 

their  order  and  regularity,  are  a  perpetual  marvel  and  an 
equal  irritation  to  the  Chinese. 

The  Far  East  came  to  Roger  by  inheritance.  His  father, 
Sir  Arthur  de  la  Haye,  was  so  pre-eminently  the  authority 
on  Celestial  matters,  that  the  whole  of  British  diplomacy 
in  China  seemed  to  hang  on  his  shoulders.  England  never 
lends  her  representatives  one  ounce  of  unnecessary  strength. 
They  have  to  impress  out  of  their  own  personality.  If 
they  make  bricks  without  straw  when  their  confreres  of 
Russia,  or  Germany,  are  provided  with  substantial  sheaves, 
then  they  have  done  no  more  than  their  duty;  if  they  fail, 
the  difficulty  of  their  situation  provides  no  extenuating 
circumstance.  Another  man  is  sent,  and  then  another, 
until  one  turns  up  with  such  a  combination  of  the  essen- 
tial qualities,  that  he  effects  marvels  as  if  they  were 
commonplaces. 

Sir  Arthur  de  la  Haye  was  such  a  man.  The  Chinese 
not  only  feared  him,  but  they  respected  him,  and  the 
respect  of  a  Chinaman  means  greater  things  than  the 
casual  Westerner  is  given  to  supposing.  He  was  even 
friendly  to  a  limited  extent  with  many  of  the  Chinese 
officials.  One  man,  Chi  Lung,  the  mandarin  and  viceroy, 
whom  the  Dowager  Empress  disgraced  twice,  and  twice 
recalled,  because  no  one  else  was  so  acceptable  to  the 
Western  Powers,  made  no  secret  of  both  friendship  and 
affection  for  Sir  Arthur  de  la  Haye. 

Roger  never  had  any  other  thought  than  to  follow  his 
father.  The  East  runs  in  families.  India  has  its  soldiers 
who,  generation  after  generation,  look  to  the  frontier  as 
the  most  inspiriting  thing  in  life.  The  Chinese  tradition  is 
younger,  but  it  is  there,  all  the  same. 

Roger  recalled  these  things  with  a  curious  sense  of  tak- 
ing stock,  as  a  man  does  before  a  life  and  death  operation, 
or  as  a  woman  does  before  her  baby  is  born,  and  later  he 
was  to  remember  this  walk  as  the  circumstance  that 
marked  the  ending  of  the  impersonal  phase  of  his  manhood. 

Men  go  to  their  development  by  various  ways.  With 
some,  ambition  pushes  to  the  front  and  dwarfs  everything 


8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

else,  for  overweening  ambition  is  a  Juggernaut,  which  only 
arrives  at  its  goal  by  rolling  under  its  car  not  only  senti- 
ments but  personalities.  With  other  men  it  is  a  woman — 
and  then  everything  depends  on  the  lady.  She  either 
uplifts  him  or  drags  him  down.  Only  one  thing  is  certain. 
Love  and  a  woman  never  leave  a  man  where  they  found 
him.  Ambition  had  so  overtopped  Roger's  development, 
that  hitherto  women  had  played  but  a  very  secondary  part 
in  it.  Chi  Lung  (who  had  watched  over  him  since  his 
father's  death,  displaying  an  interest  and  affection  that  had 
something  paternal  in  them)  never  hesitated  to  say  that 
this  was  the  triumph  of  the  Oriental  education  over  the 
Western  inheritance.  The  Celestial  imagined — or  chose  to 
make  himself  think — that  his  teaching  had  relegated  women 
in  Roger's  mind  to  the  position  of  "  honorable  baggage," — 
the  accepted  Chinese  attitude. 

Anyway,  fancy-free,  Roger  turned  out  of  Grosvenor 
Place,  through  the  connecting  streets  and  on  to  the  great 
square.  There  the  bustle,  the  lights,  the  music,  the  group, 
either  side  of  the  awning,  of  those  poor  souls  who  gather 
to  catch  what  glimpse  they  may  of  a  feast  to  which  they 
will  never  be  bidden,  pointed  out  his  destination.  He 
pulled  up  a  moment.  The  name  of  his  hostess  floated,  hov- 
ered, near  to  his  consciousness. 

"Hip "  he  murmured.     "  Hippeley "     Then  he 

had  it. 

"  Tippley-Smith." 

He  walked  up  the  felt-carpeted  steps,  received  the  num- 
ber for  his  hat,  and  began  that  work  of  time  and  difficulty 
— getting  up  the  staircase  in  a  crush. 

The  Tippley-Smiths  had  but  lately  arrived,  by  transla- 
tion from  Balham,  to  Grosvenor  Square.  An  only  child, 
and  a  successful  patent  for  compressed  turpentine,  were 
responsible  for  the  ascension,  and  now,  since  an  income  in 
five  figures  and  judicious  effacement  could  do  most  things, 
when  humanity  was  filling  up  that  measure  of  vulgarity 
which  was  to  receive  the  purification  of  self-sacrifice  only 
a  year  or  two  later,  they  were  so  far  established  in  Society 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  9 

that  their  guests  for  the  most  part  looked  at  the  girl, 
looked  at  the  house,  and  forgot  the  father  and  mother.  It 
was  a  bargain,  and  all  bargains  necessarily  require  one  side 
to  propose  terms  and  the  other  to  accept  them. 

Roger  had  just  attained  to  the  bend  of  the  staircase, 
when  he  happened  to  look  ahead.  Already  he  had  been 
greeted  by  several  people  who  knew  him,  by  more  who 
made  the  "  I  knew  your  father,  I  knew  your  mother  "  their 
medium  of  introduction.  He  replied  to  them  genially,  and 
was  not  in  the  least  taken  in.  Without  actually  formulat- 
ing the  thought  in  so  many  words,  he  was  perfectly  aware 
that  Sir  Roger  de  la  Haye,  young,  rich,  and  a  rising  dip- 
lomat, was  not  an  acquaintance  to  be  neglected. 

But  as  Roger  lifted  his  eyes  he  forgot  all  social  possi- 
bilities, noble  or  ignoble.  A  face  arrested  him.  He  looked 
again.  He  was  still  more  interested.  He  saw  a  girl,  who 
had  yet  something  womanish  in  her  finished  pose,  in  the 
air  of  quiet  but  certain  self-possession.  The  next  moment 
one  of  those  high  head  feathers,  the  fashion  of  the  hour, 
got  between  him  and  the  girl's  face.  He  could  only  catch 
glimpses  of  a  knot  of  golden  hair,  of  the  outline  of  an 
exceedingly  white  shoulder. 

Impatiently  Roger  waited  his  turn  to  make  his  bow  to 
his  hostess,  who  stood  just  without  the  door  of  the  ball- 
room. As  impatiently,  once  within  the  long  room,  empty 
of  furniture  save  for  that  row  of  benches  close  to  the 
wall  where  the  chaperons  sat,  looking  for  all  the  world 
(as  a  keen  critic  of  human  nature  once  said)  like  the  vul- 
tures watching  on  the  Towers  of  Silence — he  gazed  about 
for  the  one  face  he  wished  to  study. 

He  found  it,  and  noticed  that  the  girl  was  accompanied 
by  an  exceedingly  well-preserved  woman,  presumably  her 
mother.  His  training,  which  had  taught  him  that  a  trifle  is 
often  the  surest  indication  of  a  wide-sweeping  truth,  caused 
him  to  remark  the  expression  on  that  woman's  face.  It 
wore  that  eager,  alert  look  of  one  who  has  not  so  many 
acquaintances  that  they  can  afford  to  let  a  single  friendly 
individual  go  by.     "  New  to  London  " — he  said  to  himself, 


lo  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

None  the  less,  though  the  mother  and  daughter  might 
be  just  outside  this  particular  ring — (factions  herd,  each 
in  their  own  flock,  as  if  they  were  sheep,  expecting  to  be 
rounded  up  by  a  collie) — Roger  knew  that  they  were  no 
strangers  to  Society. 

The  situation  interested  him  less  than  the  girl.  He 
looked  about  for  someone  to  introduce  him.  Several  times 
he  drifted  away,  more  than  once  he  came  back  to  find  only 
the  mother  there.  At  last  his  perseverance  was  rewarded, 
he  found  a  mutual  acquaintance,  made  his  bow,  and  learned 
that  this  girl,  who  already  intrigued  him  more  than  all  the 
other  girls  in  the  room  put  together,  was  a  certain  Miss 
Melsham,  Miss  Naomi  Melsham. 

"  I  suppose,"  remarked  Mrs.  Melsham,  as  Roger  lingered 
by  her  while  another  man  claimed  Naomi  for  a  waltz, 
"  that  you  are  tired  of  hearing  that  people  knew  your 
father  or  mother." 

Roger  looked  up  with  a  half-laugh.  This  was  the  note 
of  the  evening,  and  it  amused  him  to  see  that  Mrs.  Mel- 
sham was  quick  enough  not  to  strike  it,  even  by  implica- 
tion, without  letting  him  know  that  she  was  aware  he 
might  think  it  was  being  played  too  often. 

Roger  murmured  that  he  was  only  too  pleased  when  peo- 
ple talked  to  him  of  his  parents. 

"  Then,"  went  on  Mrs.  Melsham,  "  you  won't  mind  if  I 
tell  you  that  long  ago  my  husband  knew  your  father.  He 
was  in  Pekin,  in  the  consular  service.  He  didn't  stay 
long,  out  in  China.  You  know  the  climate  there.  I  have 
often  heard  him  talk  of  Sir  Arthur  de  la  Haye.  Of 
course,"  and  now  the  eyes  looked  up  quickly,  "  that  was 
before  I  married.  My  husband  left  the  service  and  settled 
in  Nice.  We  lived  there  until  he  died.  Then  my  girl  and  I 
thought  we  would  like  to  travel.  I  am  afraid  to  say  for 
how  many  years  we  have  been  vagabonds.  This  is  the 
first  time  wc  have  been  in  London  for  a  season.  It  was 
suddenly  borne  in  on  me  what  a  neglectful  mother  I  was. 
Naomi  has  not  even  been  presented." 

Roger  considered  Mrs,  Melsham  more  carefully.     With 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  ii 

her  regular  features,  she  might  be  any  age  from  forty  to 
fifty.  Her  complexion  was  carefully  but  not  blatantly  im- 
proved. Her  hair  was  dressed  with  an  attention  to  detail 
that  nine  out  of  ten  Englishwomen  forget.  To  omit  her 
diamonds  would  disturb  the  average  British  matron  to  the 
point  of  discomfort :  purposeless  wisps  down  the  back  of 
her  neck  leave  her  quite  complacent. 

Roger  looked  impatiently  down  the  room.  The  women's 
dresses  were  making  shifting,  changing  combinations  of 
color,  the  breeze  was  coming  in  from  the  open  window, 
and  the  hum  of  voices  followed  it  from  the  balcony,  yet,  all 
at  once,  he  became  conscious  of  a  feeling  of  hurry.  It 
was  as  if  he  had  been  running  hard  and  was  out  of  breath. 

There  followed  a  sharp  recoil,  a  sense  of  danger.  He 
looked  towards  the  door.  There  was  an  instant  when  he 
meditated  leaving  then  and  there. 

"  Here  is  my  daughter,"  quickly  remarked  Mrs.  Mel- 
sham  at  his  elbow. 

Roger  started,  he  watched  Naomi  coming  down  the 
room,  and  his  look  was  so  earnest  that  Mrs.  Melsham  sup- 
pressed a  peculiarly  fine  smile.  Bending  down,  as  if  to 
put  straight  a  fold  of  her  gown,  she  edged  away  a  pace. 
It  was  Roger,  not  she,  who  should  receive  Naomi  from 
her  last  partner. 

The  girl  came  up.  She  looked  sharply  past  Roger  to  her 
mother,  and  as  she  did  that  her  face  seemed  to  freeze,  to 
grow  old,  with  that  age  which  is  due,  not  to  the  passing  of 
time,  but  to  experience. 

"  Our  dance.  Miss  Melsham,"  said  Roger. 

The  music  had  begun,  the  room  was  filling  anew.  Naomi 
looked  up.  Roger  understood  that  she  was  pleased  to 
dance  with  him,  and  was  filled  with  the  marvel  of  it.  There 
came  to  him  that  sense  of  wonder  which  is  the  first  sign 
that  the  door  of  the  heart  is  about  to  swing  back.  He  felt 
that  he  had  nothing  to  say,  that  the  small  talk,  ordinarily 
appropriate  to  such  occasions,  was  not  only  futile  but 
ridiculous.  There  seemed  to  be  great  issues  in  the  back  of 
his  consciousness,  but  when  he  asked  himself  what  these 


12  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

issues  might  be,  a  turn  of  his  mind  assured  him  that  there 
were  none  there  at  all. 

Naomi  and  he  walked  a  few  steps  down  the  room.  He 
was  just  about  to  put  his  arm  round  her  waist,  when  a  tall 
man  came  up  to  him. 

"  Hullo !  "  said  Roger. 

The  big  man  nodded  casually,  but  Roger  asked  Naomi's 
permission  and  stepped  a  pace  away. 

The  two  men  said  only  a  very  few  words  to  each  other. 
Naomi  did  not  intend  to  listen,  and  yet  she  was  so  inter- 
ested she  had  to  look  that  way. 

"  Better  make  it  next  Saturday,"  said  Roger ;  "  I've  fixed 
up  the  other." 

"  Then  I'll  appear  as  the  unexpected  guest,"  the  big  man 
said. 

"  Capital,"  Roger  returned,  as  this  big  man,  with  bulk 
as  well  as  height,  and  a  face  which  arrested  attention  by 
its  air  of  strength  and  command,  passed  along. 

It  was  evident  that  in  some  way  he  was  a  personage.  An 
old  woman,  with  three  strings  of  diamonds  on  a  lean  neck, 
put  out  her  hand  and  touched  his  arm  with  her  fan. 

"  Who  is  he?  "  asked  Naomi,  as  Roger  came  back  to  her. 

"  That's  Paul  Marketel.    Don't  you  know  him  ?  " 

Naomi  shook  her  head. 

"  Most  people  know  Paul,  or  know  of  him,"  continued 
Roger.     "  He  is  a  great  financier." 

"  Where  money  is  there  will  the  grabbing  fingers  be 
gathered  together,"  said  Naomi  suddenly,  sharply. 

Roger  answered  quite  seriously.  It  is  perhaps  inevitable 
that  a  diplomat  who  was  at  once  so  young  and  so  suc- 
cessful should  lose  his  lightness  of  touch.  Only  maturity 
can  take  cleverness  with  a  shrug  of  the  shoulders. 

"  No,"  Roger  demurred,  "  Paul  isn't  that  kind.  His 
honesty  is  proverbial." 

"  And  yet  he  is  a  financier,"  insisted  Naomi. 

"  Because  he  is  a  financier,"  corrected  Roger.  "  I  once 
heard  him  say  that  honesty  isn't  only  good  policy,  it's  con- 
fidence lent  out  at  compound  interest." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  13 

Naomi's  lips  curled  disdainfully. 

"  It's  so  easy  to  be  honest  on  an  income  of  five  figures," 
she  said. 

Roger  looked  up  sharply.  He  was  unpleasantly  conscious 
of  some  unexpressed  implication.  But,  since  that  supposed 
disagreeable  things,  as  he  would  have  phrased  it,  he  shut 
his  mind  to  the  impression.  He  forgot  that  if  you  want 
to  arrive  at  the  truth — cultivate  a  memory  for  trifles.  It 
is  the  first  article  of  a  diplomat's  creed. 

"  Paul  was  not  always  rich,"  he  went  on — "  he  has  quite 
a  history — and,"  he  added,  with  that  everlasting  resentment 
of  the  male  for  a  woman  who  does  less  than  her  duty  to 
the  young  and  defenseless — "  a  stepmother." 

"  A  stepmother !  "  Naomi  returned.  "  That  rather 
sounds  as  if  he  had  suffered  at  her  hands." 

"  He  did,"  answered  Roger  briefly. 

"  And  now,  when  the  tables  are  turned  ? "  the  girl 
went  on. 

"  Paul  is  always  kind — but  he  pleads  a  previous  engage- 
ment as  often  as  the  dear  lady  wishes  to  see  him." 

Roger  finished  the  sentence  abruptly.  He  wondered 
what  had  made  him  so  expansive  about  his  friend's 
affairs. 

"  I  think,"  exclaimed  Naomi,  breaking  in  on  the  misgiv- 
ing of  the  man  before  her,  "  that  I  could  bear  anything 
better  than  contemptuous  generosity.  It  would  force  one 
to  be  silent,  and  suflFering  for  one's  sins  in  silence  must  be 
almost  as  bad  as  being  asked  to  kiss  the  rod  with  a  smile. 

She  spoke  hotly.  Her  voice  vibrated.  Afterwards — not 
once,  but  many  times  afterwards — she  recollected  what  she 
had  said :  how  she  had  defined  the  penalty  of  silence  and 
marked  out  the  torture  of  it. 

As  for  Roger,  the  effect  on  him  was  immediate  but 
evanescent. 

He  perceived  that  Naomi  Melsham  was  evidently  capable 
of  thinking  out  certain  problems — of  facing  certain  even- 
tualities. But  again,  he  had  noticed  that  her  touch  was 
curiously  yariable.     Sometimes  she  betrayed  all  the  sure- 


14  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

ness  of  participation — sometimes  a  thing  might  have  been 
remote  from  her — a  theory,  and  the  odd  part  was  that  it 
was  just  the  meaner,  less  lovely  aspects  of  Life  which  she 
approached  as  though  she  had  a  more  complete  knowledge 
of  them. 


CHAPTER  II 

"  You  know,"  protested  Roger,  as  he  came  out  on  to  the 
steps  of  the  Tippley-Smiths'  house,  "  it  is  ever  so  early.  We 
have  hardly  got  halfway  through  the  program  and  you 
promised  me  another  dance  at  least." 

"  Mama  thinks  we  must  go,"  murmured  Naomi 
vaguely. 

"  We  must  be  going  on,"  amended  Mrs.  Melsham.  "  I 
especially  promised  we  would  put  in  an  appearance  at  an 
old  friend's  house." 

She  spoke  both  explicitly  and  with  decision.  But  the 
truth  was  the  other  engagement  was  a  creation  of  her  own 
brain,  and  her  early  departure  a  sudden  resolution  born  of 
the  events  of  the  evening.  Roger  was  so  evidently  at- 
tracted, he  had  hovered  so  persistently  round  Naomi,  that 
Mrs.  Melsham  deemed  it  wise  to  take  her  daughter  away 
while  the  impression  was  both  vivid  and  compelling.  Over- 
emphasis, she  held,  especially  in  attraction,  tends  to  a  final 
blur. 

She  came  out  and  stood  at  the  head  of  the  long  flight 
of  white  steps,  looking  down  in  a  leisurely  fashion.  Naomi 
and  Roger  were  behind  her,  and  she  saw  no  reason  either 
to  curtail  their  leave-taking  or  to  watch  it  with  an  openly 
observant  eye. 

A  striped  awning  descended  from  the  door  to  the  pave- 
ment, and  within  that  awning  was  a  powerful  electric  bulb; 
therefore,  as  she  moved  well  forward  along  the  step,  her 
face  was  very  visible  to  that  fringe  of  sad  humanity  still 
keeping  vigil,  one  or  two  deep,  on  either  side  of  the  pave- 
ment. 

"  Please  ask  a  policeman  to  call  a  taxi,"  she  said  over 
her  shoulder. 

Roger  was  a  moment  before  he  answered;  then  he  came 

15 


i6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

to  her  side  and  looked  down  the  steps.  With  his  tall  figure, 
and  the  contrasting  black  and  white  of  his  evening  dress, 
he  was  even  more  noticeable  than  Mrs.  Melsham  herself. 

No  blue-coated  representative  of  the  law  appeared  to  be 
in  sight,  and  so  a  man  detached  himself  from  the  crowd. 

"  'Ere ! "  he  cried  out,  with  a  suspicion  of  a  foreign 
accent  in  his  raucous  voice ;  "  I'll  get  a  taxi.  What  name, 
Sir?" 

Mechanically,  Roger  gave  his  own,  and  the  man,  instead 
of  turning  immediately  away,  pushed  himself  on  to  the 
strip  of  red  felt  and  looked  up  the  steps.  His  first  glance 
was  for  Roger,  an  appraising  scrutiny,  then  the  prominent 
eyes  traveled  onwards,  and  impelled  by  that  force  which 
makes  one  look  back  at  a  person  staring  hard,  Mrs.  Mel- 
sham's  eyes  went  straight  to  meet  the  stare.  She  took  in 
the  outline  of  a  heavy  form,  the  unhealthy  appearance  of 
a  large  face,  bloated,  and  yet  whitened,  as  if  it  had  been 
for  months,  possibly  for  years,  shut  up  where  there  was 
a  lack  of  sunshine.  She  remarked  that  the  man  was 
shabby,  that  he  was  unmistakably  a  foreigner,  but  she  saw 
too  that  the  eyes  were  as  intelligent,  as  acute,  as  they  were 
insolent  and  cruel. 

She  stepped  back,  swayed  as  if  she  were  about  to  lose 
her  foothold.  She  pushed  so  sharply  against  her  daughter 
that  her  purpose  might  have  been  to  hurry  within  the 
house  and  hide  herself,  and  then  she  laughed  uncertainly. 

"Mama!"  exclaimed  Naomi.  "What  is  it?  You  are 
not  ill  again." 

Mrs.  Melsham  steadied  herself.  Naomi's  exclamation 
told  her  that  she  was  betraying  her  agitation,  and  then  fol- 
lowing that  there  came  the  impulse  to  push  the  question 
of  her  health  angrily  aside.  She  resented  as  much  as  the 
breath  of  a  hint  that  physically  she  could  be  on  the  wane. 

The  woman  whose  charms  have  greatly  attracted  is 
scarcely  ever  a  valetudinarian.  It  is  only  she  who  all  her 
life  long  has  been  denied  the  thrill  of  admiration,  who 
makes  ill  health  the  pathetic  last  bid  for  attention. 

It  was  true,  Mrs.  Melsham  had  felt — well — not  quite  so 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  17 

buoyant  as  usual, — it  was  true  she  had  gone  secretly  to  a 
physician,  and  had  heard  from  him  that  nothing  was 
organically  wrong,  only  she  would  do  well  to  live  quietly 
for  a  time — the  very  last  thing  she  ever  intended  to  do — 
but  now  when  she  was  about  to  tell  Naomi,  impatiently, 
to  mind  her  own  business,  Roger's  face  checked  her. 

"  Men,"  she  reminded  herself,  "  were  all  creatures  with 
a  blind  belief  in  theory.  They  put  their  faith  in  formulae. 
One  of  these  was  what  she  called  contemptuously  "  the 
dear  daughter  persuasion."  So,  now,  if  it  pleased  this  in- 
fatuated young  man  to  glow  with  approbation  at  Naomi's 
tactless  remark,  she  was  certainly  not  going  to  disturb  his 
impression. 

At  that  moment  the  shabby  foreigner,  with  the  collar  of 
an  ancient  broadcloth  coat  turned  up  about  his  ears,  until 
it  half  shadowed  his  face,  came  back  hanging  on  the  steps 
of  the  taxi.  He  held  open  the  door,  and  there  was  just 
another  moment  before  Mrs.  Melsham  could  bring  herself 
to  go  down  the  steps.  As  she  stepped  into  the  vehicle,  she 
was  careful  not  to  look  near  the  beggar. 

Roger  handed  out  a  tip  without  a  glance  either,  and  for 
once  Naomi  had  no  attention  to  bestow  on  outside  affairs. 

"  You  will  let  me  come  and  call  on  you  tomorrow,"  mur- 
mured Roger,  making  his  voice  low,  on  purpose  that  the 
answer  might  come  from  her  and  not  from  her  mother. 

The  girl  hesitated.  Roger  looked  at  her  in  dismay.  Was 
she  going  to  refuse?  Why  should  she  refuse  when  she 
had  been  gracious  to  him  all  the  evening? — and  then  she 
faltered  that  they  were  staying  at  the  Cleveland  Hotel. 

A  policeman  came  up.  and  showed  symptoms  of  wishing 
to  hurry  them  off.  Roger  put  his  head  in  at  the  window 
for  a  final  good-by,  and  the  taxi  man  gruffly  suggested  that 
he  did  not  know  his  fare's  destination. 

"  209  Parchester  Terrace.  Of  course,  how  stupid  of 
me!"  said  Mrs.  Melsham. 

It  took  the  driver  a  moment  longer  to  make  sure  of  the 
exact  lie  of  the  address,  and  then  Roger  stood,  bare- 
headed, out  on  the  curb,  until  the  taxi  disappeared. 


i8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

He  had  a  feeling  of  being  cut  short;  it  was  as  if  a 
shutter  had  come  down  and  blocked  out  the  sun,  so  that 
what,  a  moment  before,  had  been  a  brilliantly  lighted 
room  was  now  a  gloomy  dungeon.  He  went  up  the  steps, 
glancing  at  his  watch.  It  was  a  little  past  one  now;  at  the 
earliest  he  could  not  present  himself  at  the  Cleveland  Hotel 
much  before  noon  next  day.  The  eleven  hours  between 
seemed  endless,  and  then,  as  he  reached  the  entrance,  and 
so  far  recollected  himself  as  to  put  his  hand  into  his 
pocket  for  the  ticket  for  his  coat,  Paul  Marketel  crossed 
him  on  the  step. 

It  was  perfectly  natural  that  while  Paul  Marketel  lighted 
his  cigarette  Roger  should  exchange  a  word  with  him. 
They  did  not  say  a  single  syllable  the  whole  world  might 
not  have  heard.  They  both  of  them  knew  their  business 
too  well  to  risk  as  much  as  a  reference  to  Zouche  in  such 
a  situation,  but  the  alien,  who  had  retired  to  his  first  posi- 
tion on  the  back  fringe  of  the  row,  peered  between  two 
shabby  shoulders  to  have  a  better  view. 

"  There's  two  toffs  for  you  if  you  like,"  he  remarked. 

"  That's  Marketel,"  his  nefghbor  informed  him  in  a 
grudging  voice.  "  He  could  buy  up  half  London  they  say, 
could  Marketel." 

"  I  haf  seen  him  before,"  answered  the  alien  dryly,  and 
after  that  as  if  he  had  finished  something,  or  accomplished 
something,  he  swung  round  and  walked  with  an  alert  step, 
quite  out  of  keeping  with  his  ragged  appearance,  on  the 
shadowy  side  of  the  square,  until  he  came  to  the  first  turn- 
ing out  of  it. 

As  for  Mrs.  Melsham,  she  only  waited  until  they  were 
safely  out  of  the  range  of  observation. 

"  My  dear,"  she  gasped,  and  she  clutched  Naomi's  arm, 
"did  you  see  that  man?" 

"  What  man?  "  inquired  Naomi  indifferently. 

"  The  man  of  course  who  fetched  the  taxi." 

"  No,"  answered  the  girl,  and  pointedly  she  turned  her 
face  and  looked  out  of  the  window.  She  wanted  to  be 
left  alone  with  her  thoughts.     She  wanted  to  look  out  on  to 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  19 

the  streets  and  drink  in  the  mysterious  spirit  of  the  night; 
to  look  at  silent  house  after  silent  house,  and  to  imagine 
all  the  warmth,  all  the  glow  of  a  romance  that  possibly 
was  being  lived  in  one  if  not  in  all  of  those  high  uniform 
dwellings.  The  very  street  lamps,  casting  their  wedges  of 
light  across  the  road,  had  a  beauty  in  her  eyes  which  she 
had  never  seen  before.  The  face  of  Roger  de  la  Haye 
came  flashing  into  her  mind,  then  disappearing  and  flash- 
ing again,  just  as  a  revolving  lantern  turns  facet  after 
facet  of  brightness  on  to  an  expanse  of  ocean. 

Naomi's  experience  of  admiration  had  been  by  no  means 
happy.  Until  she  was  nearly  seventeen  she  had  lived  with 
an  old  aunt,  her  father's  sister,  in  Lausanne.  When  this 
aunt  died,  Mrs.  Melsham  had  no  alternative  but  to  take 
her  daughter  to  live  with  her.  This  particular  winter  she 
rented  a  villa  in  Nice,  and  kept  Naomi  as  much  as  she 
could  in  the  background,  until  to  her  mingled  dismay  and 
satisfaction  she  found  that  there  were  certain  possibilities 
of  usefulness  about  a  beautiful  girl  just  passing  from 
childhood  to  womanhood. 

Naomi  herself  was  bewildered.  Everything  was  so  ut- 
terly unlike  the  ordered  life  in  Lausanne,  then,  for  she 
was  naturally  quick,  and  Mrs.  Melsham  did  not  think  it 
worth  while  to  be  guarded,  she  began  to  understand  and 
to  resent.  But  the  outcome  of  her  first  revolt  was  a  bitter 
sense  of  defeat.  Mrs.  Melsham  told  her  she  was  both 
green  and  a  fool,  and  openly  parodied  Naomi's  scruples, 
for  the  entertainment  of  a  group  of  her  own  best  friends. 
The  girl  heard,  and  sat  still,  tingling  in  every  vein.  It 
seemed  easier  to  acquiesce  than  to  resent :  besides,  resent- 
ment was  obviously  so  useless,  so  she  drifted  down  the 
line  of  least  resistance,  until,  one  afternoon,  an  individual 
of  nondescript  nationality  called  Hermann  Strum,  and  a 
very  young  Frenchman,  who  believed,  when  he  entered  the 
room,  that  Mrs.  Melsham  was  a  much  maligned  woman, 
came  to  play  cards  at  the  Villa. 

What  followed  left  an  indelible  impression  on  Naomi's 
mind.     There  had  been  an  altercation  at  cards,  and  not 


20  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

even  Mrs.  Melsham's  aplomb  could  explain  away  certain 
discrepancies.  Hermann  Strum  saw  in  the  occasion  an  op- 
portunity too  good  to  be  lost;  he  rose  indignantly,  and 
declared  that  he  was  out  of  pocket  by  at  least  a  thousand 
francs. 

Mrs.  Melsham,  shrill  for  once,  denied  that  there  was 
anything  wrong  at  all,  or  if  there  had  been— giving  her- 
self away — it  was  a  matter  of  a  single  deal,  and  therefore 
of  fifty  francs  at  the  most. 

But  Strum,  banging  his  thick  fist  on  the  table  (for  a 
German  always  must  be  physically  brutal),  swore  that  if 
there  were  any  haggling  as  to  the  figures,  he  would  settle 
the  whole  question  at  the  bar  of  local  opinion.  Or,  since 
he  was  not  what  he  himself  would  call  an  unreasonable 
man,  and  he  said  this  with  a  cold  sneer — if  the  cash  were 
short,  he  was  prepared  to  recollect  that  there  was  a  daugh- 
ter— a  charming  daughter. 

He  got  no  farther  than  that;  the  leer  on  his  face — the 
white  misery  on  Naomi's,  forced  Armand  de  Rochecorbon's 
chivalry. 

At  first  he  had  been  inclined  to  withdraw,  to  disassociate 
himself  ostentatiously,  from  the  whole  unsavory  atmos- 
phere. Now,  he  pushed  himself  to  the  table;  he  flung  his 
note  case  before  Strum. 

"I  am  satisfied  that  the  mistake  has  nothing  to  do  with 
Mademoiselle,"  he  declared.  "  There  are  three  thousand 
francs  there,"  pointing  to  the  case,  "you  shall  have  the 
other  two  tomorrow  morning."  And,  in  face  of  this  diver- 
sion, Mrs.  Melsham — alone  equal  to  the  occasion — thanked 
the  little  Frenchman  for  what  she  called  "  so  opportune  an 
advance  " — and  spoke  airily  of  repayment. 

Hermann  Strum  disappeared  as  suddenly  as  he  came. 
Since  then,  Naomi  Melsham  had  never  touched  quite  so 
low  a  depth,  but  again  and  again  she  had  since  realized 
that  admiration,  in  the  men  she  met,  lacked  the  very 
quality  which,  secretly,  she  most  longed  for  it  to 
possess. 

Now,  the  one  thing  her  thoughts  insisted  on  was  that 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  21 

there  was  no  leer  in  Roger  de  la  Haye's  ardent  glance,  no 
reservation  in  his  estimate  of  her. 

Naomi  Melsham  made  up  her  mind  that  there  should 
be  this  one  white  flower  in  her  garden  of  remembrance. 
If  she  and  Roger  met  again  a  few  times,  if  they  danced 
together  a  few  times  more,  he  should  take  his  leave  believ- 
ing the  best  of  her.  That  was  the  utmost  for  which  she 
hoped. 

As  for  Mrs.  Melsham,  she  contemplated  the  outline  of 
Naomi's  neck  and  the  round  of  the  well-dressed  hair,  with 
an  enigmatical  smile.  Once  she  seemed  about  to  speak, 
and  then,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders,  she  checked  her- 
self. What  she  had  to  say  would  not  become  less  unwel- 
come if  she  blurted  it  out  at  once.  On  the  other  hand, 
Naomi  might  be  more  amenable  if  she  was  given  time  to 
estimate  present  possibilities  and  was  then  confronted  with 
the  sequel  to  past  facts. 

Mrs.  Melsham  waited  until  the  taxi  was  halfway  down 
Piccadilly,  and  then  she  let  down  the  window.  She  put 
out  her  head. 

"  Drive  to  the  Cleveland  Hotel,"  she  told  the  man;  "  I've 
changed  my  mind.  It's  too  late  to  go  on  to  Parchester 
Terrace  tonight." 

"  I'll  come  into  your  room.  I  want  to  speak  to  you," 
said  Mrs.  Melsham,  as  she  and  her  daughter  stood  on  the 
narrow  top  landing  of  the  big  hotel. 

Naomi  held  open  the  door,  and  her  mother  entered  with- 
out taking  any  notice  of  the  obvious  unwillingness,  sat 
down  on  the  one  cane  chair  with  a  careful  thought  to  her 
dress,  removed  her  gloves  and  smoothed  them  out  finger 
by  finger. 

"  I  suppose  they  only  put  people's  maids  as  a  rule  into 
such  a  room  as  this,"  she  observed. 

"  We  asked  for  the  cheapest,"  Naomi  murmured. 

"  And  we  have  to  go  without  lunch  three  days  a  week, 
and  to  pretend  we  are  dining  out  two  more,  to  live  here 
at  all,"  Mrs.  Melsham  amended. 


22  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Naomi  sat  down  on  her  bed  and  turned  her  face  away. 
She  had  an  inkHng  of  what  was  coming,  and  so  distasteful 
was  it,  that  she  put  up  her  hand  to  extinguish  the  electric 
light.  Then  she  desisted.  Mere  darkness  would  never 
make  her  mother  hold  her  tongue. 

"  I  really  think,  my  dear,"  Mrs.  Melsham  began,  moving 
round  to  look  squarely  at  Naomi,  "  that  you  have  made  a 
conquest — and  quite  a  useful  one  too.  Not  before  we  need 
it,  but  then  '  the  Lord  does  provide,'  as  your  old  aunt 
would  have  said." 

Naomi  sprang  up.  This  was  none  the  less  horrible 
because  she  had  expected  it.  She  drew  herself  up,  and 
her  golden  hair  caught  and  held  all  the  light,  but  there  was 
something  repellent  in  the  hostility  of  her  whole  form. 

''  Please  understand.  Mama,"  she  began — "  tonight  is 
not  to  lead  to  any  of  your  commercial  speculations." 

"  My  dear  Naomi,"  retorted  Mrs.  Melsham,  for  the 
mother  and  daughter  were  given  to  very  plain  speech  when 
they  were  by  themselves — "  there  are  times  when  you  are 
such  a  fool  that  I  wonder  how  you  came  to  be  my 
daughter." 

"  And  I,  Mama,"  flung  back  Naomi,  "  wonder  if  you 
know  how  ashamed  you  sometimes  make  me.'* 

Mrs.  Melsham  laughed  contemptuously ;  none  the  less 
she  looked  up  warily.  She  wanted  an  understudy,  not  a 
critic.  There  would  be  months  together  when  Naomi  ap- 
peared as  if  she  accepted  the  role,  and  then  all  at  once 
she  would  set  herself  stonily  recalcitrant.  Not  that  Mrs. 
Melsham  habitually  indulged  in  practices  that  would  bring 
her  under  the  social  law,  but,  being  one  of  those  people 
who  desire  to  live  at  the  rate  of  a  thousand  a  year  on  two 
liundred,  she  was  driven  to  expedients.  Now,  expedients 
with  a  woman  usually  mean  the  sale,  direct  or  indirect,  of 
her  charms,  as  long  as  she  has  any  to  offer — and  of 
someone  else's  when  her  own  are  things  of  the  past. 

"  I  think,"  she  went  on  now,  "  that  you  had  better  hear 
what  I  have  to  say  before  you  mount  such  a  very  high 
horse  of  disinterested  virtue." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  23 

"What  can  you  have  to  say?"  demanded  the  girl. 

Mrs.  Melsham  rose  and  faced  her  daughter. 

"  Merely  this,"  she  said,  "  that  if  I  had  not  known  that 
Hermann  Strum  was  dead,  I  would  have  sworn  that  he  was 
the  ragamuffin  who  fetched  that  taxi  for  us." 

"  Hermann  Strum !  "  cried  out  Naomi.  "  It's  like  every- 
thing that  has  happened  to  me  all  my  life,  that  he  should 
reappear  tonight." 

"  I  don't  suppose,"  suggested  Mrs.  Melsham  tranquilly, 
"  that  whenever  he  turned  up  he'd  be  particularly  wel- 
come." 

"  Mama,"  said  Naomi,  with  a  catch  in  her  voice,  "  tell 
me — what  made  us  think  that  Hermann  Strum  was 
dead?" 

"  It  was  said  all  over  Nice  that  he  had  been  arrested  as 
a  spy,  and  you  know  what  happens  to  spies." 

"  Then  it  was  only  a  rumor  that  he  was  dead  ? "  the 
girl  asked. 

"  Everyone  seemed  sure  that  he  was  a  spy,"  Mrs.  Mel- 
sham went  on.  "Of  course,"  she  continued,  blandly  ig- 
noring inconvenient  facts,  "  had  I  known  his  metier,  I 
should  never  have  had  him  at  the  Villa." 

"  Then,"  summed  up  Naomi,  "  there  was  no  real  foun- 
dation for  what  you  told  me.  When  you  assured  me  you 
knew  Hermann  Strum  was  dead — you  were  merely  in- 
venting." 

"  Not  at  all,"  retorted  Mrs.  Melsham,  "  I  was  repeating 
what  people  said.  Besides,  don't  you  think  if  he'd  been 
alive  he'd  have  tracked  us  down  before  now  to  see  what 
he  could  get  out  of  us?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi,  amazed  as  she  still  was  to  find  that 
her  mother  could  make  the  most  damaging  admission  with 
an  air  of  injured  tranquillity.  "  I  suppose  he  would  have 
come  to  blackmail." 

"  My  dear,"  remonstrated  Mrs.  Melsham,  "  what  a  way 
to  put  it!  Don't  you  think  your  habit  of  using  big  words 
about  small  occasions  is  a  mistake?  It  might  give  people 
a  false  impression.     A  little  altercation  at  cards  does  not 


24  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

quite  imply  that  an  unprincipled  man  has  the  whip-hand 
of  one." 

"  A  little  altercation  at  cards ! "  cried  back  Naomi. 
"  You  know  what  Hermann  Strum  called  it.  You  know 
what  Armand  de  Rochecorbon  knew  it  to  be.  You  know 
what  Hermann  Strum  demanded  as  the  price  of  his 
silence." 

The  girl  covered  her  face  with  her  hands.  The  humilia- 
tion, the  pain,  the  very  fear,  had  left  one  clear  thing 
behind,  and  that  was  a  great  longing  for  the  ordered,  the 
open,  in  life. 

Mrs.  Melsham  watched  the  shudder. 

"  You  see,"  she  said — "  I  was  right.  You  will  be  wise 
if  you  take  the  good  things  which  come  your  way.  If  the 
worst  comes  to  the  worst,  and  it  is  Hermann  Strum,  he  is 
more  likely  to  be  reasonable  if  he  sees  we  have  some  useful 
acquaintances." 

"  Mama,"  declared  the  girl,  "  if  you  say  another  word, 
I'll  never  see  Roger  de  la  Haye  again." 

"  It  would  be  rather  like  cutting  off  your  nose  to  spite 
your  own  face,"  Mrs.  Melsham  retorted. 

"  Understand,"  said  Naomi,  "  that  if  Sir  Roger  does 
come  to  call,  if  he  does  wish  to  pursue  the  acquaintance, 
you  are  to  get  nothing  out  of  him." 

"  Hermann  Strum  is  just  the  kind  of  man  to  be  extor- 
tionate," Mrs.  Melsham  murmured. 

"  I  don't  care !  "  the  girl  cried  back.  "  Neither  Hermann 
Strum  nor  anyone  else  shall  force  me  to  be  a  cat's-paw 
again." 

Mrs.  Melsham  always  knew  when  she  was  worsted.  She 
gave  up  the  argument  now,  and  abruptly  said  good-night. 
The  morning,  she  thought,  might  bring  Naomi  to  a  more 
pliable  frame  of  mind. 

The  girl  passed  a  wretched  night.  She  expected  a  visit 
from  Hermann  Strum  before  breakfast,  then  as  the  morn- 
ing passed  she  began  to  wonder  how  much  of  the  story 
Mrs.  Melsham  had  invented.  After  all,  when  she  came  to 
examine  the  statements,  her  mother  merely  said  that  she 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  25 

fancied  she  saw  a  resemblance  between  the  beggar  and  this 
Hermann  Strum. 

"  I  believe  mama  wished  to  frighten  me  into  doing 
what  she  wanted,"  Naomi  told  herself  bitterly.  She  didn't 
quite  see  the  usefulness  of  the  move  or  its  clear  connec- 
tion with  any  scheme  of  aggrandizement,  but  she  had 
experience  enough  to  know  that  Mrs.  Melsham  would 
travel  down  a  very  long  road,  the  better  to  turn  the  corner 
of  her  particular  scheme. 

A  little  before  midday  came  a  telephone  message  from 
Roger,  to  inquire  if  Miss  Melsham  was  rested,  and  if  he 
might  take  her  and  her  mother  to  lunch  at  Candidale's,  the 
fashionable  restaurant  of  the  moment. 

"  That's  six  shillings  off  our  weekly  bill,"  remarked  Mrs. 
Melsham,  '*  and  if  you  can  engineer  him  into  dinner  to- 
morrow, I  may  get  through  this  week  without  cashing 
another  check." 

Naomi  looked  at  her  mother.  After  all  her  passionate 
protests,  Mrs.  Melsham  was  calculating  possible  gains  as 
calmly  as  if  not  a  word  had  been  said. 

"  Please  remember,"  Naomi  cried  out  now,  "  that  if  I 
did  what  I  ought  I  should  declare  I  was  too  tired  to  lunch 
today,  and  be  out  when  Sir  Roger  calls  tomorrow.  But  I 
want  to  see  him  again.  It's  so  refreshing  to  be  with  some- 
one who  takes  it  for  granted  one  is  honest — really  honest, 
I  mean.  I  wish  Sir  Roger  to  go  on  thinking  that,  so  please 
don't  forget  your  purse.  If  you  do,  he  won't  pay  for  the 
taxi  back  for  us,  I  can  promise  you,  and  it's  no  use  seeing 
a  pretty  hat  in  any  shop  window,  he  won't  go  in  with  you 
to  buy  it." 

"  I  think,"  murmured  Mrs.  Melsham,  reduced  to  plain- 
tiveness,  a  role  she  very  rarely  played,  "  that  you  forget 
that  men  like,  really  like  I  mean,  to  pay  for  little  things 
here  and  there." 

"  Not  as  you  make  them  do  it,"  the  girl  retorted. 

She  took  a  turn  up  and  down  the  cramped  little  room. 

"  Oh!  "  she  burst  forth.  "  Do  you  think  I  haven't  seen? 
If  you  don't  care,  I  do.     Men  amuse  themselves  with  you 


26  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

and  me.  You  are  a  good  sort.  I'm  a  fine  girl.  But  they 
say  we  are  on  the  make.  Oh !  it's  intolerable  to  be  treated 
so  lightly." 

"  And  why  are  we  treated  so  lightly,  as  you  call  it  ? " 
Mrs.  Melsham  asked,  then  answering  her  own  question,  she 
added,  "  Because  we  are  poor." 

"  No !  "  protested  Naomi,  "  because  we  are  mercenary." 

Mrs.  Melsham  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  let  the  argu- 
ment go  by  default.  She  played  the  charming  mother  all 
through  lunch,  and  breathed  more  freely  when  the  day 
went  by  and  there  was  no  sign  of  Hermann  Strum. 

As  for  Roger  the  negotiations  for  the  Chinese  loan  pro- 
vided him  with  a  very  good  excuse  for  not  leaving  town, 
but  he  knew  that  had  there  been  no  Chinese  pourparlers 
he  would  still  have  lingered.  As  it  was,  this  very  business 
set  a  term  to  his  stay  in  London. 

It  was  arranged  that  certain  individuals  should  meet  at 
Zouche,  and  continue  their  negotiations  under  the  disguise 
of  a  week-end  visit.  But,  as  a  precaution  to  insure  secrecy, 
and  the  passing  of  the  visitors  as  mere  units  in  a  social 
function,  one  or  two  friends  were  to  be  added  to  the  party. 

There,  Roger  determined,  was  his  opportunity.  lie 
intended  Naomi  Melsham  to  be  of  that  party.  He  knew 
he  ought  to  include  her  mother,  but  even  his  prepossession 
could  not  blind  him  to  the  fact  that  his  mother  and  Naomi's 
had  nothing  in  common.  Mrs.  Melsham  played  her  part 
skilfully,  for  Roger  concluded  she  was  rather  silly,  when, 
in  truth,  she  was  over-clever. 

Love  can  be  strangely  blind.  One  hour  of  great  passion 
is  worth  a  procession  of  dull  days,  but  the  outcome  of  it 
is  always  a  conspicuous  success  or  an  equally  great  failure. 
There's  no  middle  term  with  anything  that  has  so  nearly 
touched  the  skies. 

It  was  Mrs.  Melsham  herself  who  settled  the  difficulty. 
She  hinted  that  the  Tippley-Smiths  had  asked  her  to  help 
them  through  their  first  country  house  parties,  but  that 
she  was  hesitating  on  Naomi's  account. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  27 

"  My  daughter  is  fastidious,"  she  said  softly.  "  These 
Tippley-Smiths  are  rather  blatantly  new." 

Roger  sighed  with  relief,  not  at  the  Tippley-Smiths'  lack 
of  generation  but  because  Mrs.  Melshani  was  engaged,  and 
she,  who  caught  most  side  winds,  probably  heard  him  and 
understood. 

He  went  to  the  telegraph  office  the  moment  he  left  the 
hotel.  He  had  already  told  his  mother  about  Naomi :  when 
she  received  his  telegram,  she  would  send  an  invitation  at 
once. 

The  invitation  to  Zouche  was  perhaps  the  last  thing 
Naomi  Melsham  anticipated.  For  the  first  time  she  allowed 
herself  really  to  think  of  the  possibility  of  enduring  rela- 
tions. She  had  been  conscious  for  days  of  a  certain  new 
warmth  about  her  heart,  but  she  had  feared  that  if  not 
tomorrow,  then  the  day  after,  the  glow  would  be  extin- 
guished. But,  above  all,  she  was  grateful  to  Roger  de  la 
Haye.  We  like  supremely  the  people  who  show  us  our 
best  self,  how  much  more  did  Naomi  feel  about  the  man 
who  told  her  twenty  times  a  day,  by  direct  statement  as  well 
as  by  implication,  that  he  took  it  for  granted  she  could  not 
have  an  unworthy  side  ? 

Mrs.  Melsham's  jubilation,  of  course,  provided  the 
recoil. 

"  There  is  sure  to  be  a  house  party,"  she  remarked.  "  I 
hope  there'll  be  some  '  names '  among  them.  My  people 
like  '  names,'  and  it  will  do  me  good  to  include  my  daugh- 
ter in  the  list." 

Included  among  Mrs.  Melsham's  various  expedients  for 
adding  to  her  income  was  what  she  called  a  certain  amount 
of  journalism.  In  reality  it  meant  that  she  retailed  gossip-. 
At  Nice,  in  the  winter,  certain  people  liked  to  see  them- 
selves in  the  "  Doings  of  Our  Compatriots  " — so,  for  "  con- 
siderations " — of  varying  kinds — Mrs.  Melsham  supplied 
the  editor  with  descriptions  of  what  these  dear  souls  had 
on  their  backs,  and  at  whose  parties  they  were  "  remarked." 
As  a  rule  she  went  on  to  some  summer  resort  and  repeated 


28  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

the  gossip  there;  this  time  she  had  sent  what  she  called  a 
"  few  pars  "  from  London  to  a  Paris  paper. 

"  I  am  not  sure  that  I  shall  go  to  Zouche,"  cried  Naomi 
hotly,  "  if  I  can't  go  there  without  dragging  business 
into  it." 

"  Then,  my  dear,"  flashed  back  Mrs.  Melsham,  "  I  hope 
you'll  find  accommodation  for  yourself  while  I  go  and  stay 
at  the  Tippley-Smiths'.  You  gave  yourself  such  airs  about 
their  party  at  Aix  that  they  don't  want  you  again." 

"  You  know,"  returned  Naomi  dully,  "  that  I  haven't  a 
penny  in  my  purse." 

"  Then  earn  a  shilling  or  two  by  sending  me  something 
exciting  from  Zouche;  besides,"  went  on  Mrs.  Melsham, 
"  you  aren't  a  child.  You  must  know  that  we  have  been 
spending  much  more  than  we  could  alTord  this  last  week. 
All  in  your  interest.  If  we  don't  both  of  us  get  free  board 
and  lodging  until  I  can  recoup  a  bit,  we  shall  have  to  sing 
in  the  streets  for  our  supper." 

Mrs.  Melsham  might  have  stated  her  financial  position 
in  highly  colored  terms,  but  what  she  said  was  substantially 
true.  Nevertheless  her  lack  of  means  did  nothing  to  pre- 
vent her  paying  a  visit  to  an  expensive  dressmaker  as  soon 
as  Naomi  was  at  liberty  to  accompany  her. 

The  girl  had  given  in.  There  was  her  heart  to  urge  her, 
there  was  that  convenient  excuse — the  force  of  driving 
circumstances.  Besides  she  knew  nothing  of  a  conversa- 
tion on  the  telephone  between  Madame  Emilie  Marie  and 
her  mother.  Madame  had  said  something  about  a  long 
bill  to  pay,  and  Mrs.  Melsham  had  not  hesitated  to  declare 
that  there  was  a  very  fair  chance  that  her  daughter's 
patronage  in  the  future  would  be  well  worth  a  little  elas- 
ticity in  the  present.  "  Let  her  get  to  Zouche,  and  then 
send  in  your  account.  It  may  be  a  useful  reminder,"  Mrs. 
Melsham  cynically  advised. 

For  the  rest,  she  spared  neither  time  nor  trouble.  Mrs. 
Melsham's  taste  in  dress  was  the  only  unimpeachable  thing 
about  her,  and  every  garment  she  selected  for  Naomi 
struck  just  the  right  note. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  29 

The  girl  came  very  near  to  being  softened  by  all  this 
solicitude  displayed  for  her,  and  then,  just  when  nine 
mothers  out  of  ten  would  have  been  reticent,  Mrs.  Mel- 
sham's  levity  overcame  her. 

"  This  looks  like  business,"  she  remarked.  "  I  hope 
you  will  remember,  my  dear,  that  where  a  man  is  con- 
cerned, it's  pace  that  pays.  Rush  him  and  he'll  adore  you 
— at  least,  until  after  the  wedding  day, — give  him  time  to 
think  and  he'll  recollect  another  woman  whose  gowns  fit 
better  than  yours  do." 

Naomi  heard.  She  was  in  the  taxi,  her  boxes  were  up 
before.  She  sat  back  white  and  cold,  until  she  was  out  of 
sight,  and  then  with  a  sob  she  put  both  her  hands  over  her 
face. 

"  Give  me  a  chance,"  she  whispered,  "  and  I'll  play 
straight.  Dear  God !  "  she  went  on.  "  I  ask  nothing  so 
much  as  to  play  straight." 


CHAPTER  III 

The  De  la  Hayes  had  been  at  Zoiiche  for  more  than  two 
hundred  years. 

There  is  a  httle  ring  of  country  in  East  AngHa  which 
has  twice  received  a  distinct  impression  from  France.  Once, 
after  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  when  the  Huguenots  poured 
across  the  Channel,  once  when  colonies  of  Royalist  exiles 
lived  in  and  about  the  little  town  of  Bury  St.  Edmunds. 
There  was  a  Flemish  occupation  too,  then  farther  back  a 
Danish,  but  it  is  the  Gallic  that  remains  an  influencing  fac- 
tor even  to  this  day. 

The  De  la  Hayes  were  Huguenots.  They  owed  it  to 
Madame  de  Maintenon  and  her  proselytizing  zeal  that  they 
became  English. 

A  fortunate  marriage  with  the  last  child  of  the  old 
Zouche  family  brought  the  house  and  the  surrounding 
estate  into  the  hands  of  the  exiles.  There  they  held  from 
father  to  son,  always  prudent,  always  astute,  always  care- 
ful to  keep  up  the  French  tradition,  until,  when  Sir  Arthur 
was  a  young  man,  one  of  the  beams  in  the  wide  hall  chimney 
of  the  old  oak  and  plaster  house  caught  fire,  and  it  was 
burnt  to  the  ground. 

Sir  Arthur  immediately  set  to  work  to  build  it  up 
again,  but  in  a  fashion  which  local  opinion  decided  to  be 
"  wonderful  queer."  He  took  for  his  model  that  chateau 
on  the  Loire  from  which  his  family  sprang.  So  now  the 
house  consisted  of  a  long  white  body,  with  a  row  of 
French  windows  opening  on  to  a  terrace,  finished  off  at 
either  end  with  round  towers,  each  topped  with  a  circular 
pointed  roof.  To  either  end  was  added  a  one-storied 
wing,  and  at  the  opposite  side  to  the  terrace  was  an 
entrance,  led  up  to  by  a  double  flight  of  steps,  protected 
by  railings  of  wrought  iron,  of  workmanship  fine  enough 
for  le  Roi  Soleil  himself. 

30 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  31 

Hardly  a  thing  had  been  saved  from  the  old  house,  so 
Sir  Arthur  brought  over  his  collection  of  chinoiserie,  and 
added  to  it  as  long  as  he  lived.  His  was  a  many-sided 
nature.  He  was  a  fine  musician;  he  had  a  considerable 
talent  for  sketching  in  water  colors ;  his  reputation  as  a 
judge  of  Chinese  art  was  world-wide.  It  is  only  medi- 
ocrity that  must  concentrate  to  exclusion,  since  it  has  not 
strength  enough  to  be  at  the  same  time  pre-eminent  and 
diffuse. 

It  was  not  until  Zouche  was  habitable  again  that  Sir 
Arthur  married  Amabelle  Meddleton.  Lady  de  la  Haye 
was  many  years  younger  than  her  husband.  She  thought 
him  the  cleverest  man  in  the  world,  and  had  no  hesitation 
in  saying  so.  Happily  she  could  worship  with  a  dimple  on 
her  cheek  and  a  twinkle  in  her  eye.  Admiration  without 
a  sense  of  humor  is  provocative;  admiration  leavened 
with  wit  is  infectious.  She  became  hardly  less  of  a  power 
than  her  husband.  Her  fine  touch  soothed  many  an  irri- 
table diplomatic  nerve.  It  was  tacitly  understood  that  cer- 
tain people  were  to  be  turned  over  to  her  just  because  her 
hand  was  so  light.  Success  never  came  near  to  spoiling 
her,  because  she  never  got  over  the  wonder  of  it.  It  is 
only  when  one  begins  to  take  the  praise  of  men  as  one's 
due  that  the  world  thinks  of  withholding  it. 

When  Sir  Arthur  died,  Amabelle  returned  to  England. 
Hers  was  not  a  fashionable  grief,  so  it  did  not  require 
distraction.  She  did  not  even  try  to  assemble  those  house 
parties  which  had  been  one  of  the  brilliant  features  of  Sir 
Arthur's  rare  holidays.  Neither  he  nor  his  wife  had  ever 
thought  themselves  obliged  to  comply  with  the  Pauline 
injunction  to  suffer  fools  gladly,  but  their  guests  had  often 
been  more  than  so  many  pleasant  men  and  women  come  to 
eat  and  sleep  and  talk  from  Friday  until  Tuesday.  They 
were  often  diplomats,  glad  of  a  friendly  discussion  on  neu- 
tral ground. 

A  wit  (cynical,  perhaps,  because  he  was  not  included) 
once  said  that  at  Zouche  the  first  article  of  an  interna- 
tional agreement  came  into  being  between  two  mouthfuls 


32  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

of  marmalade  at  breakfast.  It  was  discussed  in  all  its 
bearings,  as  Lady  de  la  Haye  called  her  guests'  attention 
to  her  latest  rose  in  the  walled-in  garden,  and  finally  set- 
tled before  midnight  over  a  cigar  in  the  Chinese  writing- 
room. 

But  all  this  was  in  the  former  times,  and  Lady  de  la 
Haye  had  never  been  more  sensible  of  that  gulf  fixed  be- 
tween the  old  and  the  new  than  she  was  on  the  day  fol- 
lowing Roger's  return  to  Zouche.  He  had  been  in 
London  rather  more  than  a  week.  His  mother  had 
hurried  up  to  greet  him  on  his  actual  arrival,  and  as  she 
waited  to  see  him  step  out  of  the  boat  train  at  Victoria 
(for  he  had  come  overland  from  Marseilles),  and  caught 
a  glimpse  of  his  eager  face,  she  told  herself  with  a  feeling 
of  very  great  gladness  that  her  boy  was  still  her  boy.  The 
hours  which  followed  were  peculiarly  impressed  on 
Amabelle  de  la  Haye's  mind.  The  mother  and  son  had 
been  apart  for  five  years,  and  manhood  ripens  and  crystal- 
lizes between  twenty-seven  and  thirty-three.  But  though 
she  had  schooled  herself  to  accept  it  if  it  were  there,  there 
had  been  no  reservation  in  his  affection  towards  her.  They 
talked  of  most  things,  of  Zouche,  of  his  work,  of  the  East, 
even  of  their  prejudices  and  their  likings,  but  there  had 
been  no  mention  of  a  woman  as  a  woman.  Lady  de  la 
Haye  understood  Roger  had  come  back,  as  he  went,  heart- 
whole. 

The  next  morning  she  returned  to  Zouche,  expecting 
Roger  to  join  her  the  following  day,  and  instead  she  re- 
ceived a  telegram  saying  he  was  detained.  At  first,  as  she 
fluttered  the  pink  sheet,  she  was  so  elated  that  she  had 
hardly  time  for  her  own  disappointment. 

"  The  Foreign  Office  is  keeping  him,"  she  said  half 
aloud.  "  It  shows  he's  indispensable.  When  a  diplomat 
is  indispensable,  then  his  career  is  made." 

All  the  rest  of  that  day  she  had  barricaded  her  heart 
against  any  feeling  of  loneliness  with  dreams  of  Roger's 
future,  of  his  importance.  She  wanted  no  gratification  of 
the  man  as  an  individual,  she  wished  for  appreciation  as  a 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  33 

hall  mark  of  competence.  Sir  Arthur  had  served  his  coun- 
try selfishly,  he  had  asked  for  abnegation  from  his  wife 
where  his  official  work  was  concerned,  and  Amabelle  had 
learned  her  lesson  well,  for  she  had  willingly,  and  with 
outward  cheerfulness  at  least,  sent  her  only  child  back  to 
the  compelling  East,  in  the  first  devastation  of  her  widow- 
hood. 

But  when  one  day  lengthened  into  two,  and  the  days 
into  a  week,  Amabelle  had  the  feeling  that  something  was 
hanging  over  her.  She  studied  Roger's  letters  more  for 
what  they  did  not  say  than  for  what  they  said.  They 
were  brief,  they  were  noncommittal.  "  He  is  holding 
something  back,"  she  said.  Then  following  a  brief  tele- 
gram came  one  which  was  revealing.  Roger  begged  his 
mother  to  ask  the  Miss  Melsham  whom  he  had  mentioned 
more  than  once  down  to  Zouche.  She  had  done  what  he 
asked  at  once.  It  was  elementary  prudence  to  acquiesce, 
and  when  Roger  arrived  in  person  she  had  only  said : 

"  I  have  asked  this  Miss  Melsham,  and  as  I  didn't  think 
she'd  care  to  be  the  only  girl  in  the  party,  I  have  wired 
for  Victoria  Cresswell." 

Roger  nodded,  he  made  no  reference  to  Victoria,  but 
suddenly  he  crossed  to  his  mother's  side. 

"  Miss  Melsham  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  I  have 
ever  seen,"  he  said  simply — he  waited  a  few  moments  and 
then  he  added,  "  I  hope  you'll  like  her,  Mother." 

It  was  these  few  words,  so  bald,  so  restrained,  yet  so 
full  of  significance,  that  had  been  in  Amabelle's  mind  ever 
since  she  heard  them.  None  the  less,  she  knew  a  little 
more  about  Naomi  Melsham  than  these  words  revealed. 
All  women  can  make  judicious  inquiries.  Amabelle  had 
put  out  feelers,  and  she  had  learned  at  least  such  outlines 
as  that  Naomi  and  her  mother  generally  lived  on  the  Con- 
tinent, that  they  were  not  rich,  and,  a  circumstance  which 
weighed  considerably  with  her,  that  the  girl's  father  had 
been  in  the  consular  service  in  the  East.  She  had  spent 
the  morning  in  a  kind  of  feverish  restlessness,  and  now, 
in  the  early  afternoon,  when  Victoria  was  expected  any 


34  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

minute,  and  Naomi  by  a  train  only  a  very  little  later,  she 
was  so  possessed  with  suspense,  that  it  was  impossible  for 
her  to  sit  still  in  the  garden  or  in  the  house.  Old  wives 
say  that  when  the  birth  of  a  man-child  who  will  go  far  is 
imminent,  the  expectant  mother  walks  from  room  to  room, 
and  that  each  peregrination  foreshadows  the  upward  inci- 
dents of  her  man-child's  career. 

Amabelle  had  been  restless  in  just  this  way,  and,  after 
all,  was  it  not  a  birth  which  was  about  to  be  accomplished  ? 
li  what  she  feared — no,  surmised ;  she  did  not  allow  her- 
self to  say  feared — was  correct,  then  was  not  something 
that  had  not  been  there  before,  coming  into  her  life? 

She  paced  up  and  down  the  big  salon,  looking  at  the 
familiar  objects,  with  a  spot  in  either  cheek.  Her  hus- 
band seemed  so  near  to  her. 

"  If  only  you  had  been  here  to  tell  me  what  to  do,"  she 
whispered. 

She  walked  towards  the  window,  listening  for  the  first 
sound  of  a  coming  automobile,  and,  the  better  to  hear,  she 
drew  aside  one  of  the  yellow  silk  curtains  lightly  worked 
with  a  flight  of  soft  butterflies.  As  she  stood  there,  the 
fold  began  to  shake,  until  it  seemed  as  if  each  butterfly 
was  on  the  wing,  yet,  with  that  touch  of  humor  which 
never  deserted  her,  she  said  to  herself,  "  Destiny  comes  in 
a  Panhard  nowadays,  the  chariot  of  Fate  has  lost  its 
free  wheel." 

She  had  heard  the  car.  It  was  coming  up  the  drive — 
before  she  had  time  to  get  from  the  window  to  the  fire- 
pJace  it  would  have  driven  up  to  the  entrance. 

Yet  the  necessity  to  get  to  the  fireplace  presented  itself 
as  such  an  urgency  that  she  almost  ran  across  the  room. 
She  put  out  her  hand,  and  grasped  hard  at  the  bow-shaped 
curve  of  the  black  marble  mantelpiece. 

She  looked  up  at  the  window,  placed  above  it  French 
fashion,  and  her  eyes  stared  through  the  glass,  as  if  she 
must  find  help  and  strength  on  the  other  side  of  it. 

Sir  Arthur  had  copied  this  fireplace  from  a  similar  ar- 
rangement in  the  old  chateau  on  the  Loire.     He  had  set 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  35 

just  that  jubilant  store  by  it  that  only  a  big  man  can  afford 
to  bestow  on  a  small  thing.  He  had  so  often  drawn  atten- 
tion to  it,  that  now  Amabelle  turned  to  it  as  the  one 
thing  which  pre-eminently  reminded  her  of  him. 

"  The  long  view — that  is  the  great  thing,"  Sir  Arthur 
had  said  to  tcrre  a  terrc  neighbors  who  demurred  about 
privacy. 

Amabelle  repeated  his  words  now,  and  applied  them  to 
herself  in  quite  another  connection. 

She  must  think  of  the  long  view,  she  reminded  herself 
— of  the  ultimate  gain,  and  not  of  the  present  dismay.  She 
must  school  herself  to  fix  her  eyes  on  the  future — on 
Roger's  future — not  her  own. 

The  day  had  passed  away  from  her — from  her  genera- 
tion— it  was  with  those  coming  on.  "  Le  roi  est  mort — 
vive  le  roi,"  she  summed  up  for  herself. 

She  drew  herself  up.  She  was  again  herself,  with  that 
air  of  exquisite  perfection  that  neither  time  nor  sorrow 
had  been  able  to  dim. 

She  had  caught  the  sound  of  steps.  Littleport  had  thrown 
open  the  double  doors.  A  guest  was  entering.  Which 
guest  ? 

Amabelle  glanced  down  the  long  room,  and  then,  with 
a  sigh  of  relief,  she  hurried  to  meet  the  newcomer. 

"  You  said  you  wanted  me,  and  so  I  came  at  once,"  began 
Victoria  Cresswell. 

Amabelle  nodded,  and  there  was  something  in  the  way 
in  which  she  drew  up  to  this  girl's  side  which  seemed 
to  intimate  that  here  she  knew  she  was  close  to  a  sym- 
pathetic personality. 

Victoria  looked  at  her  hostess  critically.  She  was  about 
to  say  that  Billy  Hirst,  the  man  to  whom  she  had  been 
engaged  for  years  in  a  desultory  fashion,  had  found  him- 
self unable  to  accompany  her,  but  was  assuredly  going  to 
join  the  party  the  following  day,  and  then  she  said 
instead : 

"  Did  you  want  me  for  anything  very  special  ?  " 

There  were  people  who  denied  that  Victoria  Cresswell 


36  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

had  any  claims  to  good  looks,  but  most  of  them  were  ready 
enough  to  admit  that  hers  was  an  unusually  interesting 
face.  Now,  even  in  the  midst  of  her  perturbation,  Lady  de 
la  Haye  was  conscious  of  an  over-alert  expression  in  the 
gray  eyes. 

"What  is  passing  with  Victoria?"  she  asked  herself. 
The  next  moment  she  was  inclined  to  take  her  own  mind 
to  task.  "  I  am  so  overwrought,"  she  murmured,  "  that  I 
expect  everyone  else  to  be  abnormal." 

She  motioned  Victoria  to  one  of  the  wide  divans  cov- 
ered with  a  glorious  stretch  of  Eastern  embroidery,  and 
taking  the  girl's  hand  she  went  straight  to  the  point. 

"  My  dear,"  she  began,  "  the  worst  of  being  an  inde- 
pendent woman  is  that  one  is  always  driven  to  depending 
on  someone  else  when  things  go  wrong." 

"  Has  something  gone  wrong?  "  asked  Victoria. 

Amabelle  considered  a  moment.  She  had  sent  for  Vic- 
toria, and  yet  she  did  not  know  if  she  had  the  right  to 
discuss  Roger's  affairs  with  her.  She  thought  of  the  very 
little  that  had  been  said  between  her  and  her  son,  but  if 
Roger  revealed  himself  as  freely  to  his  friends  as  he  had 
done  to  his  mother,  each  member  of  the  house  party  would 
have  a  suspicion  of  the  trend  of  circumstances  before  he 
or  she  had  been  in  his  company  five  minutes. 

Therefore,  it  seemed  better,  fairer,  more  loyal,  to  let  the 
situation  dawn  on  Victoria. 

But  if  she  could  not  mention  Naomi,  there  were  other 
developments  she  felt  quite  at  liberty  to  reveal. 

"  You  see,"  she  began,  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  towards 
the  uncovered  window  over  the  mantelshelf. 

"  Have  you  opened  the  Chinese  Room  ?  "  asked  Victoria. 

"  For  the  first  time  since  my  husband's  death." 

"Then  it  is  to  be  a  diplomatic  party?" 

"  Old  Chi  Lung  is  coming,"  Lady  de  la  Haye  went  on. 

"  Your  great  China  friend  ?  " 

"  My  husband's  great  friend,"  Amabelle  added,  "  and 
Armand  de  Rochecorbon — you  remember  hearing  of  him?" 

"  He  went  out  to  Pekin  to  shoot  with  Koger  ?  " 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  37 

"  Yes.  I  knew  his  mother  in  the  old  days.  He  is 
Aimee's  cousin,  you  know." 

Victoria  nodded. 

"  It  will  be  quite  like  old  times." 

"  My  dear,"  remonstrated  Lady  de  la  Haye,  and  her  tone 
was  reproachful — "  that's  just  what  it  will  not  be,  nothing 
ever  does  come  over  again  precisely  as  it  was." 

"  That's  the  skeleton  at  the  feast  for  most  of  us,"  sug- 
gested Victoria  reflectively. 

"  For  most  of  us  who  are  not  as  young  as  we  once  were. 
Regret  is  so  middle-aged — that,  and  finding  one's  self  sup- 
planted," amended  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

She  had  struck  a  note  which  compelled  Victoria's  atten- 
tion. The  girl  looked  up  with  a  question  on  her  face,  but 
Amabelle  would  not  meet  her  eyes. 

"  We  are  growing  quite  dreary,"  she  evaded,  with  a  jerky 
manner  unusual  to  her.  "  And,  I'm  forgetting  I  have  not 
told  you  about  Miss  Melsham  yet.  You  know,  my  dear," 
Amabelle  went  on,  "  I  want  you  with  me  so  often  that  I 
can  afford  to  tell  you  that  in  this  instance  you  were  espe- 
cially asked  to  balance  Miss  Melsham." 

"  Who  is  she  ?  "  asked  Victoria  slowly.  She  was  begin- 
ning to  see  that  there  had  been  not  only  a  point,  but  a 
special  point,  in  her  sudden  invitation. 

"  Miss  Melsham  is  very  beautiful,  I  hear." 

"  Then  you  have  not  seen  her  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Amabelle — "  it's — it's  Roger  who  is  enthu- 
siastic about  her." 

"  You  are  asking  her  on  Roger's  account — is  she  an  old 
acquaintance  of  Pekin?" 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  said  Lady  de  la  Haye.  "  Roger  met  her 
at  a  ball  since  he  came  home.  But,"  she  went  on  bravely, 
"  it  seems  that  her  father  was  in  the  consular  service.  He 
knew  my  husband  when  they  were  both  young  men.  I 
don't  fancy  this  girl  is  well  off.  You  know  what  struggles 
official  people  have,  with  practically  no  private  means." 

"  I  know,"  said  Victoria  warmly,  "  how  your  heart  goes 
out  to  anything  connected  with  the  old  China  days, — and. 


38  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

if  they  are  poor  in  addition,  there's  no  help  for  it,  you 
have  to  befriend  them." 

Amabelle  laughed  almost  guiltily.  In  this  instance  did 
poverty  weigh?  Did  antecedents  weigh?  Did  anything  but 
Roger's  words — "  Mother,  I  hope  you  will  like  her  "  ? 

But  at  any  rate  she  had  been  loyal.  She  had  established 
a  sympathetic  atmosphere  for  this  golden-haired  girl,  though 
not  without  an  inner  reservation  of  which  she  had  given 
not  the  faintest  hint. 

Victoria  sat  back,  waiting  and  quiet.  She  was  so  little 
at  ease  herself,  there  was  such  a  tangle  in  her  private 
affairs,  that,  in  her  turn,  she  asked  herself  if  she  was 
imagining  a  knot  here,  and  then,  a  high  voice  broke  on 
the  stillness,  and  a  slip  of  a  girl  with  her  thin  shoulder- 
blades  working  her  long  arms,  danced  in  at  the  window. 

"  You,  Aimee !  "  exclaimed  Victoria,  springing  up  to  meet 
her. 

The  girl  laughed  joyously. 

"  Yes,  I !  "  she  cried  out.  "  Look  at  me — I'm  a  betwixt 
and  between.  I've  banished  schoolbooks,  and  I  haven't 
put  up  my  hair  yet.  I  have  said  good-by  to  Paris,  my 
sainted  nuns  and  the  convent,  and  I'm  not  out  yet.  I'm 
a  kind  of  making  the  best  of  both  worlds.  But,"  she  ran 
on,  "  I'm  coming  down  to  dinner  tonight.  My  first  real 
party." 

She  paused  for  sheer  lack  of  breath,  and  slipped  down 
by  Lady  de  la  Haye's  side,  curling  herself  up  in  a  kittenish 
fashion. 

She  put  up  her  cheek  against  Lady  de  la  Haye's  sleeve. 
It  was  as  soft  and  as  ripe-colored  as  a  peach  that  had 
caught  all  the  warmth  from  an  old  wall. 

Aimee  was  never  known  to  be  still  for  ten  minutes  at 
a  time.  Once  Roger  offered  her  a  penny  for  every  five 
minutes  she  kept  in  one  position.  She  worked  out  one 
copper,  and  then  declared  that  the  bargain  would  be  dear 
if  it  were  a  case  of  guineas:  so  now,  she  had  hardly 
nestled  up  to  Lady  de  la  Haye's  side,  than  she  sprang  up 
again. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  39 

"  Do  you  know,  I'm  excitement  all  through  me,"  she 
began,  and  she  clapped  one  hand  against  her  chest  and  the 
other  against  her  back. 

"  Is  there  any  special  cause  for  effervescence  ?  "  Victoria 
asked  tolerantly. 

"  I  should  think  there  is — ask  Auntie." 

Victoria  looked  from  the  girl  to  Lady  de  la  Haye.  Then 
she  had  not  fancied,  she  had  felt  the  tension  in  the  air. 
But  she  said  nothing.  If  Amabelle  wished  her  to  know 
things,  she  would  tell  her  of  them.  Victoria  was  very 
observant,  and  observant  people,  if  they  are  of  the  nice 
kind,  make  it  a  rule  not  to  force  a  confidence.  It's  only 
the  inept  and  the  blundering  who  are  forever  a-crying, 
"  Tell  me !    Tell  me  !  " 

Yet,  just  because  she  would  rather  have  avoided  it, 
Amabelle  de  la  Haye  played  to  the  child's  cue. 

"Where  is  Roger?    Have  you  seen  him?"  she  asked. 

"  I  saw  him  go  to  the  stable  yard  quite  half  an  hour 
ago,"  Aimee  rattled  out.  "  He  was  fidgeting  about  there, 
as  if  no  one  had  ever  taken  a  car  out  to  the  station  before, 
and  now,"  she  added,  with  a  toss  of  her  head  and  a  flash 
of  her  eyes,  "you  can  both  of  you  guess  the  rest." 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  can,"  answered  Amabelle,  in  a 
reluctant  voice. 

"  Auntie,"  retorted  Aimee,  "  don't  be  diplomatic  and 
know  nothing.  You  know,  and  I  know,  that  Roger  him- 
self has  gone  to  meet  someone,  and  that  someone  is  the 
delectable  she." 

"  My  dear,"  reproved  Amabelle.  "  what  a  way  to  put  it ! 
Moreover,  it's  never  wise  to  jump  to  conclusions." 

Aimee  sighed  drolly.  "  I  didn't  jump  at  conclusions, 
they  jumped  at  me,"  she  protested.  "  Has  Roger  ever 
wanted  you  to  ask  a  girl  before?  Not  just  suggested  her, 
as  he'd  say,  '  Oh,  ask  Victoria ';  or  *  Ask  Aimee,'  if  I  didn't 
live  here :  but  kept  on  at  it,  in  a  '  get-to-the-Equator-by- 
the-North-Pole '  fashion." 

Victoria  looked  at  her  hostess.  This,  then,  accounted  for 
that  something  suppressed  in  her  dear   friend's   manner. 


40  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Amabelle  had  the  quality  of  exciting  not  only  friendship, 
but  warm  partisanship.  Victoria's  first  thought,  notwith- 
standing the  everlasting  attraction  of  youth  to  love,  was  for 
Amabelle's  suffering. 

"  Men  are  so  inconsiderate  to  their  womenkind  when  they 
are  in  love,"  she  said  to  herself.  "  I  hope  Roger  hasn't 
hurt  her  more  than  necessary." 

And  then,  as  she  formulated  this  thought  to  herself, 
there  was  heard  the  swift  rush  of  an  upcoming  motor. 

"  It's  she  !  "  cried  out  Aimee.     "  Roger's  she !  " 

Victoria  saw  Lady  de  la  Haye's  face. 

"  Be  quiet,  Aimee,"  she  exclaimed,  "  and  come  with 
me."  She  put  her  arm  through  the  girl's,  and  pulled  her 
out  of  the  window,  and  then,  with  a  very  tender  look  on 
her  face,  she  stepped  back,  and  softly  drew  the  silk  cur- 
tains together. 

Amabelle  heard  Victoria  go.  She  knew  exactly  why  the 
girl  had  withdrawn  herself,  and  yet  so  critical  did  the 
moment  seem  to  her,  that  she  all  but  called  her  back  again. 
With  a  quivering  lip  she  suppressed  the  inclination.  Some 
women  (and  a  woman  only  knows  how  it  hurts)  are 
doomed  to  face  the  crisis  of  life  alone.  One  hopes  the 
guardian  angel  hovers  very  close  to  them,  yet,  if  it  does, 
one  wonders  why  the  mercy  of  hearing  the  flutter  of  the 
white  wings  is  denied  to  them. 

As  Amabelle  had  done  before,  so  she  would  do  again — 
it  took  her  but  a  moment  to  master  her  weakness.  She 
walked  into  the  middle  of  the  room,  she  drew  herself  to 
her  full  height,  she  faced  the  doors.  Her  heart  was  beat- 
ing until  the  throb  of  it  hurt  in  her  throat.  She  saw  those 
doors  open,  she  waited  it  seemed  an  appreciable  time  for 
someone  to  pass  through,  and  then  she  caught  her  first 
glimpse  of  Naomi  Melsham. 

To  the  last  day  of  her  life  Amabelle  remembered  the 
breathlessness  of  that  moment.  The  girl  entered  with  a 
kind  of  shy  elation,  Roger  was  following  her  and  she 
knew  it.  He  was  drawn  after  her,  not  because  her  hair 
was  golden,  not  because  her  eyes  were  blue,  not  because  of 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  41 

certain  graces,  certain  charms,  but  for  the  reason  that  went 
the  deepest  down  into  the  heart  of  humanity,  because  she 
was  the  complement  to  his  manhood,  and  he  knew  it. 

Roger  had  said  a  good  deal  about  his  mother,  he  had 
made  it  plain  how  much  they  had  been  to  each  other,  and 
Naomi  knew  that  when  Roger  took  to  himself  a  wife,  his 
mother  would  cease  to  be  the  mistress  at  Zouche  and  be- 
come a  guest;  therefore  the  gravity  of  Lady  de  la  Haye's 
greeting  amazed  her.  One  does  not  examine  carefully 
unless  one  admits  that  there  is  a  possibility  of  acceptance. 

"  Why  should  she  give  me  a  chance  ? "  Naomi  asked 
herself  quickly. 

She  had  heard  of  mothers  who  put  the  happiness  of  their 
children  before  their  ambition  and  their  purse.  It  occurred 
to  her  that  she  might  be  face  to  face  with  such  a  one. 
Insensibly  she  was  softened,  for  she  would  always  take 
the  good  and  leave  the  bad  when  an  unfettered  choice  was 
offered  to  her.  She  put  out  her  hand  with  an  appealing 
gesture.  She  asked  mutely  for  a  suspension  of  judgment, 
for,  as  she  would  have  put  it  herself,  "  her  chance,"  she 
waited  for  the  introduction  with  a  mist  overspreading  her 
blue  eyes. 

"  Mother,  this  is  Miss  Melsham,"  began  Roger  in  the 
triumphant  male  voice. 

"  My  son  has  told  me  a  great  deal  about  you,"  said 
Amabelle.     "  I  am  very  glad  to  see  you." 

"  It  was  kind  of  you  to  ask  me  to  come,"  murmured 
Naomi. 

"  And  I  am  very  glad  you  could  accept  the  invitation," 
said  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

Then  the  two  women  looked  at  each  other.  The  trivial 
sentences  had  just  been  to  gain  time  on  either  side.  An 
examination,  an  appraisement  was  bound  to  follow — and 
they  both  knew  that,  for  good  or  for  evil,  their  first  con- 
clusion would  color  their  relationship  to  each  other  as 
long  as  not  they  themselves,  but  Roger,  walked  on  this 
earth. 


CHAPTER  IV 

**  If  you  please,  my  Lady." 

It  was  Littleport  who  spoke,  and  the  old  servant's  ap- 
pearance, just  within  the  double  doors,  broke  in  on  a 
hesitation  so  momentous,  that  not  only  Naomi,  but  Lady 
de  la  Haye  as  well,  gave  a  sigh — fluttering  on  the  one 
hand,  relieved  on  the  other— at  the  postponement  of  what 
they  both  knew  to  be  a  great  decision. 

"Both  motors  have  come  back,  Sir,"  said  the  old  man, 
turning  to  Roger. 

"Yes?"  returned  Roger  apprehensively. 
"Empty,   Sir,"  went  on  Littleport,  as  he  looked  down 
with  that  fine  '  I  told  you  so '  smile  of  the  confidential 
servant. 

"  They  must  go  to  meet  all  the  remaining  trains,"  de- 
cided Lady  de  la  Haye. 

"  That's  what  I  told  the  men,"  Littleport  answered.  "  I 
felt  sure  that  his  Excellency,  being  his  Excellency,  would 
have  his  old  little  ways." 

Roger  and  his  mother  acquiesced,  with  no  more  than  a 
simple  assent. 

It  was  Naomi  who  looked  hard  at  the  old  man.  Her 
first  impulse  had  been  to  inquire  as  to  the  identity  of  this 
guest  who  was  so  important  that  two  cars  were  kept  run- 
ning to  look  for  him :  the  next  moment,  it  was  swept  aside 
by  another  question. 

The  possessive  note,  the  possessive  air,  were  something 
new  to  her.  Mrs.  Melsham's  series  of  bonnes  a  tout-fairc, 
varied  by  an  experiment  who  called  herself  "dame  a  font 
faire,"  received  as  small  a  wage  as  they  would  put  up  with, 
and  gave  a  grudging  service,  sometimes  pointed  by  pertinent 
observations,  in  return.  Here  was  a  servant  who  took 
wages,  but  both  gave  and  received  precisely  that  which  no 

4a 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  43 

wage  could  buy.  Naomi  looked  eagerly  at  the  clean- 
shaven face  and  the  light,  benevolent  eyes.  Littleport 
seemed  to  furnish  the  clue  to  the  whole  position  at  Zouche, 
and  she  saw  that  he  was  glancing  at  her,  with  quite  as 
questioning  a  look  as  she  gave  him.  So,  she  not  only  came 
into  the  horizon  of  Roger  and  his  mother,  but  into  that  of 
Littleport  too.  As  she  thought  that,  the  old  servant  per- 
mitted himself  to  smile,  that  delightful  smile  of  a  fond 
nurse  for  a  child. 

"  Oh !  "  breathed  Naomi,  and  if  she  had  obeyed  her  im- 
pulse, she  would  have  hurried  up  to  the  old  man,  and  then 
from  him  to  Lady  de  la  Haye,  since  he  had  done  so  much 
to  explain  Roger's  mother  to  her. 

But  it  was  not  her  place  to  advance.  She  must  wait  until 
she  was  called.  She  looked  across  with  an  appeal  in  her 
eyes. 

Mrs.  Melsham  once  remarked  disagreeably,  that  Naomi 
was  capable  of  asking  for  the  mustard  with  as  much  en- 
treaty in  her  expression,  as  if  she  were  begging  for  a  ten 
pound  note.  Mrs.  Melsham  had  complained,  not  of  the 
gesture,  but  about  wasting  it  on  anything  so  unproductive 
as  tatHe  condiments. 

Now,  the  plaintiveness  carried  over  to  Lady  de  la  Haye 
and  arrested  her.  Amabelle  was  eminently  a  just  woman, 
and  it  requires  some  imagination  to  be  that.  It  is  the  indi- 
viduals who  pride  themselves  on  their  level  dispositions 
who  perpetrate  more  cruelties  than  a  Spanish  inquisitor. 
Roger's  mother  did  not  quite  realize  what  had  touched  the 
golden-haired  girl,  but  she  was  sure  of  the  appeal. 

"  I  like  her,  I  know  I  shall  like  her,"  Amabelle  said  in 
her  heart;  and  even  though  the  words  were  but  framed 
interiorly,  there  was  a  break  in  them,  so  great  were  the 
issues  involved  in  the  decision. 

In  common  with  most  people  who  have  lived  a  life  where 
the  just  estimate  of  a  fellow-creature  may  make  all  the 
difference,  Lady  de  la  Haye  was  never  content  merely  to 
think  a  thing,  she  must  always  act  on  her  reflections. 

She  walked  across  to  Naomi,  she  stood  before  her,  and 


44  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  j 

since  she  was  a  few  inches  the  taller  she  smiled  down  on 
her.  Naomi  raised  her  eyes,  and  again  Roger's  mother 
translated  their  expression  into  words.  "  The  girl  cares 
for  Roger,"  she  told  herself.  "  But  there  is  some  doubt 
troubling  her.  Is  it  that  she  thinks  I  shall  make  things 
unpleasant  for  her?" 

The  peculiar  temptation  of  one  who  loves  much  swept 
down  on  Amabelle  de  la  Haye.  Could  she  kill  her  son's 
new  interest?  Could  she  turn  Roger  from  this  girl?  Not 
of  course  by  opposition, — crude  denial  always  breeds 
obstinacy, — but  by  more  subtle  methods.  Naomi  had 
shown  that  her  armor  of  assurance,  the  assurance  of  youth 
and  beauty  with  its  man  to  worship,  had  its  weak  joints. 
Should  she  discover  where  that  weakness  lay,  make  sure 
if  it  were  merely  shyness,  or  if  there  were  a  cause  for  it, 
if,  for  example,  there  was  a  mother  not  quite  up  to  the 
Zouche  standard — Roger  had  been  so  evasive  about  Mrs. 
Melsham — and  then  play  to  undo  the  girl  ? 

The  train  of  thought  flashed  point  after  point  into  Ama- 
belle's  mind,  it  stayed  there  but  time  enough  to  take  shape. 

"  I  am  a  horrid,  jealous  old  woman,"  she  told  herself. 
"  Haven't  I  said  in  my  heart  that  I  like  the  girl  ?  " 

She  felt  that  it  lay  with  her  to  make  amends ;  and  then 
Roger,  seeing  perhaps  the  touch  of  hesitation,  put  in  a 
word. 

"  Mother,"  he  began,  "  you  know  I  have  talked  inter- 
minably to  Miss  Melsham  about  you  and  Zouche." 

"  But,"  carried  on  Naomi,  requiring  no  further  prompt- 
ing, "  I  had  heard  previously  about  the  chinoiserie  Sir 
Arthur  collected,"  she  bent  down  and  touched  a  scent 
burner  of  green  Canton  enamel.  "  I  was  prepared  for 
wonderful  things,"  she  added,  "  but  not  for  such  wonderful 
things  as  these.  I  am  very  ignorant  about  them ;  will  you 
teach  me  something?" 

Lady  de  la  Haye  just  glanced  at  Roger — and  humor  pre- 
dominated in  her  look. 

"My  son  knows  my  weakness,"  she  said;  "he  knows  I 
like  to  show  my  husband's  treasures." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  45 

"  My.  mother  is  inexhaustible  on  the  subject,"  Roger 
amplified. 

"  And  so,"  commented  Amabelle  inwardly,  "  you  think  to 
use  that  as  the  key  to  opening  my  heart,"  but  aloud  she 
said,  "  Look  at  this,"  and  she  took  a  rabbit,  carved  out  of 
a  single  piece  of  amethyst,  off  the  mantelshelf.  "  It  is  the 
clou  of  the  collection." 

"  Tell  Miss  Melsham  its  history,"  put  in  Roger  boyishly. 

"  My  husband  bought  it,  soon  after  he  first  went  out  to 
the  East,"  Lady  de  la  Haye  explained.  "  One  New  Year's 
Eve  he  watched  a  young  mandarin  hurrying  from  street 
to  street,  offering  a  jewel  to  every  passer-by,  for  sale. 

"  The  treasure  was  apparently  so  valuable  that,  though 
several  of  his  countrymen  spoke  to  this  young  man  with 
evident  sympathy,  none  of  them  could  spare  the  money. 

"  Happily,  my  husband  had  caught  something  of  the  spirit 
of  the  East.  He  knew  that  it  is  a  point  of  honor  with  a 
high-minded  Chinese  to  pay  every  penny  he  owes  before 
the  New  Year  dawns,  and  he  guessed  that  it  must  be  a 
matter  of  vital  importance  which  would  make  this  young 
man,  who  was  evidently  of  mandarin  rank,  peddle  his 
family  possessions  in  the  street. 

**  Sir  Arthur  went  up  to  him.  He  offered  to  buy  the 
amethyst  rabbit,  and  then  he  found  that  the  young  man 
was  on  the  point  of  fainting  from  hunger  and  exhaustion. 

"  The  poor  fellow  had  literally  starved  himself,  hoping  to 
scrape  together  a  sum  which  would  buy  off  an  extortionate 
official  who  was  threatening  to  foreclose  for  debt,  and  to 
seize  the  ground  on  which  the  family  tombs  were  built — 
and  demolish  them.  The  rabbit  he  had  kept  until  the  last 
extremity,  for  it  was  a  family  treasure,  and  the  Celestials 
set  great  store  on  their  artistic  possessions. 

"  Sir  Arthur  then  helped  this  young  mandarin  to  lay  his 
cause  before  a  powerful  protector  at  Court.  The  rapacious 
official  was  removed — and  the  family  tombs  saved." 

"  The  family  tombs  ?  "  echoed  Naomi. 

"  Each  nationality  has  that  which  it  supremely  rever- 
ences, and  that  M^hich  most  nearly  touches  its  honor,"  Lady 


46  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

de  la  Haye  explained.  "  It  is  a  point  of  honor  to  a  China- 
man to  pay  every  penny  he  owes  before  the  New  Year 
dawns,  but  the  possession  of  the  family  tombs  goes  down 
to  the  very  fundamentals  of  his  religion." 

"Why?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  Because,"  answered  Lady  de  la  Haye,  "  ancestor  wor- 
ship and  the  offerings  at  the  tombs  of  those  ancestors  are 
the  supreme  acts  of  devotion  in  a  Celestial's  life.  That," 
she  added,  "  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  sons  are  of  such 
importance  that  if  a  man  has  not  one  he  will  buy  a  boy 
and  adopt  him." 

"  And  daughters  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  shook  her  head. 

"  That  is  a  point  on  which  it  will  take  the  East  a  long 
time  to  meet  the  West,"  she  said.  "  '  Though  a  woman 
has  given  you  seven  sons;  do  not  trust  her,'  that  is  one  of 
their  proverbs,  and  as  I  have  just  told  you  how  important 
sons  are,  you  can  estimate  how  low,  theoretically  at  least, 
is  their  conception  of  woman." 

"  Theoretically,"  put  in  Roger.  "  In  practice  there  has 
been  more  than  one  Empress  Dowager.  But  then,"  he 
added,  turning  to  Naomi  with  a  smile  which  somehow 
transformed  the  general  assertion  into  an  individual  com- 
pliment, "  no  nation  is  consistent  where  your  sex  is  con- 
cerned." 

"  How  strange  it  all  seems,  how  far  away,"  Naomi 
murmured. 

"  When  you  see  Chi  Lung,"  said  Roger  quickly,  "  you 
will  find  that  one  Chinaman  at  least  is  very  near  to  my 
mother  and  me." 

"  Chi  Lung,"  repeated  Naomi. 

"  His  ■  Excellency,  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung,"  explained 
Lady  de  la  Haye.  "  It  is  he  who  is  expected  this  after- 
noon." 

"  And  never  comes,"  said  Naomi  quickly,  venturing  on 
a  touch  of  lightness  for  the  first  time. 

"  He  would  say  himself  that  time  was  made  for  coolies," 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  47 

Roger  answered,  but  his  mother  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  of  them  gravely. 

She  was  always  jealous  for  the  honor  of  the  Chinaman 
who  had  been  so  firm  a  friend  to  her  husband.  She  was 
always  careful  that  not  even  the  shadow  of  disrespect 
should  be  cast  over  him.  An  unthinking  boy,  new  to  the 
East,  had  once  referred,  in  her  presence,  to  the  old  man 
as  Number  One  Heathen  Chinee,  but  he  never  did  it 
again. 

"  The  young  mandarin  whom  my  husband  befriended  was 
Chi  Lung,"  she  said  now. 

"  And  that  was  how  they  became  such  friends  ?  "  Naomi 
asked.  "  I  don't  wonder,"  she  went  on,  "  but  I  thought 
Chinamen  never  really  liked  us  Westerners." 

It  was  just  a  moment  before  Amabelle  answered.  Chi 
Lung  was  so  coiled  into  her  family  circle,  that  she  always 
found  the  intimacy  difficult  to  explain  to  the  average  stay- 
at-home  European.  Besides,  the  old  man  had  a  strictly 
Oriental  view  on  certain  matters,  and  Roger's  absorption 
in  this  golden-haired  girl  was  by  no  means  likely  to  please 
him. 

Amabelle  was  not  a  woman  for  nothing.  When  you 
can't  climb  a  wall,  go  round  the  field  until  you  find  a  gap, 
is  a  precept  the  sex  has  laid  fully  to  heart — and  perhaps 
the  mere  acceptance  of  it  tells  how  much  woman  has  had 
to  endure. 

Amabelle  knew  she  had  no  hope  of  moving  Chi  Lung 
directly,  but  it  was  possible  she  might  do  it  through  Naomi 
herself. 

She  decided  to  do  all  she  could  to  arouse  the  girl's  inter- 
est in  the  old  man — her  reverence  for  him. 

"  Things  in  China  mostly  go  the  reverse  way  to  things 
European,"  she  went  on.  "  It  is  the  drops  which  make 
the  ocean,  we  say.  They  say,  '  All  or  not  at  all.'  The 
magnitude  of  the  repayment  must  match  the  magnitude  of 
the  service,  or  the  debt  of  gratitude  had  better  be  left  to 
the  next  generation  to  discharge.     So,  because  we  have 


48  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

been  prosperous,  and  always  happy  as  far  as  worldly  cir- 
cumstances could  make  us,  Roger,  I,  and  my  husband, 
while  he  lived — Chi  Lung  hasn't  mentioned  the  tombs  for 
years." 

"  But  if  things  were  to  go  wrong,  he'd  come  to  the 
rescue  at  once,"  Naomi  thrust  in  quickly. 

Involuntarily  Lady  de  la  Haye  made  a  movement  of 
withdrawal,  though  this  was  exactly  the  point  she  wished 
to  make.     She  recovered  herself  in  a  moment. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said,  "  but,  you  see,  if  Chi  Lung 
ever  thinks  the  occasion  big  enough  to  intervene,  then 
either  Roger  or  I  will  be  in  very  serious  trouble." 

Naomi  nodded  silently.  She  stood  a  moment  thinking 
over  this  story.  Viewed  by  the  light  of  her  mother's  pur- 
suit of  the  immediately  advantageous,  it  seemed  almost . 
fantastically  far  away  and  potential,  and  yet  she  had  a 
perception  that  it  implied  a  morality  far  deeper  than  the 
glibly  convenient  code  of  present-day  manners.  She  put 
the  thought  away  in  her  mind,  determined  to  go  back  to  it 
when  she  was  alone,  but  she  smiled  happily.  The  higher 
appealed  to  her,  whereas  up  to  now  she  had  always  been 
dragged  back  to  the  lower.  The  good  or  the  bad  of  a 
nature  is  really  implied  by  what,  left  to  itself,  it  would  take 
or  it  would  reject.  Circumstances  so  often  atrophy  the 
finest  endeavor,  and  the  world,  blinking  with  short-sighted 
eyes,  never  seems  to  realize  that  a  losing  fight  against  big 
odds  can  be  a  finer  thing  than  victory  over  an  equal  op- 
ponent. Unbiased,  Naomi  would  always  rather  climb  than 
descend. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  began  again,  wanting  to  improve  this 
hour  when  Roger's  mother  would  be  her  friend,  "  may  I  see 
the  Chinese  Room,  I  have  heard  so  much  about  it?  Wasn't 
it  there  that " 

She  stopped,  warned  by  a  glance  from  Roger. 

Amabelle  saw  not  only  the  look,  but  the  understanding 
it  implied.  She  had  been  going  to  finish  Naomi's  sentence, 
and  say  that  in  this  Chinese  Room,  so  celebrated  for  its 
treasures,  had  been  signed  the  first  treaty  by  Chi  Lung  and 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  49 

her  husband  wherein  the  East  deigned  to  borrow  of  the 
West:  but,  instead,  she  answered  the  inner  spirit,  and  sub- 
stituted :  "  I  was  going  to  keep  a  surprise  for  you,  Roger, 
until  Chi  Lung  came." 

"  For  me  ?  "  Roger  answered. 

His  mother  nodded.  There  was  such  a  lump  in  her 
throat  that  for  a  moment  she  could  not  speak. 

"  I  was  going  to  tell  you  then,"  she  said,  as  she  mastered 
herself,  "  that  the  door  of  the  Chinese  Room  is  un- 
locked." 

"  Unlocked !  "  cried  back  Roger,  yet  even  at  that  mo- 
ment he  drew  in  Naomi  also. 

"  The  room  has  never  been  used  since  my  father  died," 
he  said  to  her. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  I  have  just  pulled  back  the  cur- 
tains ?  "  Amabelle  asked,  and  she  indicated  the  little  green 
blinds  which,  years  ago,  had  been  the  subject  of  a  banter- 
ing difference  of  opinion  between  her  and  her  husband. 

Sir  Arthur  always  declared  that  his  wife  made  little 
silken  curtains  for  the  window  over  the  fireplace  in  obedi- 
ence to  the  British  spirit  of  compromise,  since,  really,  she 
resented  the  lack  of  privacy  that  window  implied;  while 
she  retorted  that  it  was  consideration  for  him.  She  knew 
he  would  write  a  better  dispatch  if  he  were  saved  from  the 
possibility  of  inquisitive  glances  over  his  shoulder. 

Roger  hurried  across,  he  put  his  arm  round  her. 

"  Mother,"  he  said,  "  you  always  think  of  me  before 
yourself." 

She  pushed  him  just  a  little  away — and  even  yesterday 
she  would  have  clung  to  him. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  tremulously.  "  You  are  going  to 
use  the  room  now.  When  Chi  Lung  comes  you  must  take 
him  in  there " 

She  stopped  abruptly  in  her  turn.  She  had  said  more 
than  she  meant.  She  was  alluding  to  certain  specific  cir- 
cumstances connected  with  the  old  Chinaman's  visit,  which 
were  concealed  behind  an  ordinary  week-end  party  at  a 
country  house.     Naomi  only  took  it  to  mean  that  if  one 


50  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

has  a  friend,  one  sometimes  talks  alone  with  him.  As  for 
Roger  his  thought  was  limited  to  the  personal  aspect. 

Men,  with  many  opportunities  of  the  universal  in  action, 
so  often  stay  by  the  domestic  hearth  in  thought,  while 
women,  who  in  the  flesh  may  never  go  twenty  miles  from 
home,  roam  the  continents  in  their  dreams. 

Now,  Roger's  eyes  were  already  looking  over  his 
mother's  shoulder,  and  that  mother  knew  it.  The  woman 
came  before  the  career;  the  new  interest,  before  her  who 
had  hitherto  held  his  confidence  and  his  love.  Only  those 
who  loving  supremely  are  called  on  to  abdicate — and  are 
expected  to  behave  as  if  they  would  rejoice  at  being  sup- 
planted— can  estimate  the  suffering  of  such  a  moment.  It 
is  so  easy  to  say  youth  goes  to  youth;  but  does  that  make 
it  any  more  pleasant  for  maturity  left  out  in  the  cold? 
Amabelle  turned  to  Naomi. 

There  are  various  qualities  in  generosity;  some  of  it  is 
so  grudging  that  it  almost  ceases  to  be  generosity  and 
becomes  a  provocation. 

There  was  nothing  so  ungracious  about  Amabelle.  She 
had  decided  on  her  part,  and  she  would  play  it  with  all  the 
grace  at  her  command. 

"  You  must  see  the  Chinese  Room,"  she  said.  "  My 
son  must  show  it  to  you,"  and  she  went  and  opened  the 
double  doors  before  either  of  them  could  answer  her. 

Amabelle  de  la  Haye  stood  there,  pushing  back  the 
quaintly  inlaid  panels,  for  these  doors  and  the  other  two 
into  the  salon  from  the  hall  were  pairs,  and  the  four  of 
them  represented  the  four  seasons.  Roger  was  still  a 
moment,  and  Naomi  dropped  her  head,  her  face  veiled  with 
a  new  soft  shyness.  To  each  of  them  it  was  so  much 
more  than  a  mere  passage  of  time — a  mere  gesture ;  Ama- 
belle realized  that  she  had  given  all  she  had,  and  could 
never  take  back  the  gift.  Roger  was  jubilant.  He  felt 
exalted,  physically,  as  well  as  mentally ;  with  Naomi,  the 
first  flush  of  happiness  passed  into  retrospect,  and  the  look- 
ing back  was  bitter. 

Love  may  be  Lord  of  the  human  heart,  but  Cupid  is  both 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  51 

the  judge  and  the  taskmaster.  This  girl,  who  had  been 
touched  by  pitch,  rather  than  had  touched  it  herself,  who 
had  sometimes  succumbed  to  unworthy  shifts,  but  the  next 
moment  had  always  drawn  herself  up  in  protest  against 
them,  would  have  given  several  years  of  her  life,  now, 
never  to  have  known  how  her  mother  eked  out  a  precarious 
income,  or  some  of  the  people  she  eked  it  out  among. 

She  looked  away  from  Roger's  eager  face,  from  Lady 
de  la  Haye's  expectant  attitude,  and  in  her  heart  she  was 
registering  the  resolve  to  walk  as  Roger  would  have  her 
tread,  and  then,  as  he  had  done  once  before  that  day, 
Littleport  entered,  and  the  old  man's  arrival  brought  back 
the  situation  to  the  small  happenings  of  everyday  life. 

"  Tea  is  on  the  terrace,  my  Lady,"  he  said. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  moved  from  the  door. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  and  she  went  to  the  window. 
She  looked  back  at  Roger,  but  he  had  gone  over  to  Naomi. 

"  Never  mind  about  tea,  come  and  see  the  Chinese 
Room  first,"  he  said,  eagerly,  to  her.  "  You  must  see  it 
now.  I  haven't  been  in  it  myself  for  five  years."  He  made 
a  step  along,  "  Come,"  he  said,  "  just  think  of  seeing  it 
for  the  first  time  with  you." 

Roger  hurried  Naomi  Melsham  through  the  door.  It 
swung  back  until  it  was  all  but  closed,  but  the  eager  voices 
floated  into  the  salon. 

"What  is  that?"  Amabelle  heard  her  son's  voice  say. 
"  Why,  that  is  my  father's  desk.    Look." 

She  knew  he  was  bending  down  to  show  all  the  quaint- 
ness  of  an  Eastern  design  adapted  to  European  purposes. 
Perhaps  he  would  explain  to  Naomi  how  the  spring  of 
what  Sir  Arthur  called  the  confidential  dispatch  drawer 
worked. 

It  had  been  a  whim  of  Sir  Arthur  to  keep  the  secret 
of  this  drawer.  Besides  him,  only  Amabelle  herself  and 
Chi  Lung  knew  that  it  existed. 

She  made  a  hasty  step  towards  the  Chinese  Room.  Her 
first  idea  was  that  Roger  must  not  tell  Naomi,  then  she 
checked  herself. 


52  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

A  man's  wife  must  not  only  walk  by  his  side,  she  must 
share  his  life — and  his  career,  unless  the  marriage  is  to  be 
a  failure. 

With  a  sigh  and  a  little  lifting  of  her  graceful  shoulders 
Amabelle  pushed  aside  the  yellow  silk  blinds  and  went  out 
on  to  the  terrace. 


CHAPTER  V 

Tea  on  the  terrace  at  Zouche,  if  there  were  guests  there, 
was  one  of  those  dehghtful  breathing  spaces  when  a  num- 
ber of  pleasant  people  met  together  and  felt  that  they  had 
leisure  to  enjoy  each  other's  society.  But  on  this  particular 
afternoon,  as  Lady  de  la  Haye  came  through  the  window 
of  the  salon,  she  found  no  one  there  before  her. 

The  terrace  ran  the  whole  length  of  the  garden  side  of 
the  house;  it  caught  the  afternoon  sun  aslant,  so  that 
there  was  always  a  shady  corner  as  well  as  a  warm  one, 
and  from  either  end  two  flights  of  steps  led  down,  one 
on  to  the  bowling-green,  the  other  to  a  path  which  ended 
in  an  old  gate-house  (perhaps  the  marriage  house  of 
medieval  days)  looking  on  to  the  park. 

The  round  table  was  pushed  aside  to  avoid  the  glare. 
Littleport  had  seen  to  it  that  a  hooded  bench  shut  out  the 
eye  of  the  sun,  an  armchair,  of  what  our  fathers  would 
have  scoflfed  at  as  of  the  common  Windsor  variety,  was 
drawn  up  before  the  tea  tray.  Lady  de  la  Haye  generally 
sat  in  it  when  she  was  on  the  terrace.  She  said  it  was 
a  whim — and  it  was  only  those  who  knew  her  well  who 
heard  that  it  had  been  left  to  her  by  an  old  woman  in  the 
village. 

Amabelle  walked  slowly  up  to  the  table.  Somewhere  in 
the  garden  she  could  hear  Aimee  laughing.  She  felt  very 
much  alone.  She  was  possessed  by  that  tired-in-every- 
limb  feeling  which  so  often  follows  a  strain  that  apparently 
has  been  lived  through  triumphantly.  But  after  a  moment, 
impelled  by  the  feeling  that  the  daily  round  must  go  on, 
even  if  the  skies  threatened  to  fall,  she  took  up  the  old 
tea  caddy. 

"  One,  two,  three,"  she  began  counting  the  cups,  and  yet 

53 


54  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

laughing  bitterly  in  her  heart  that  she  could  be  so  earnest 
over  anything  so  trivial,  and  then  Littleport  came  to  say 
that  Mr.  Marketel  had  just  arrived. 

"  Mr.  Marketel !  "  exclaimed  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

"  He  drove  up  in  his  own  car,"  the  old  man  went  on. 
"  He  asked  if  Sir  Roger  were  here." 

"  He  isn't  in  the  list  of  guests,"  Amabelle  put  in  quickly. 

"  Not  as  they  were  sent  to  the  Morning  Post,"  Little- 
port  answered. 

Amabelle  half  hesitated.  She  looked  at  the  old  man,  and 
he  met  her  glance  with  so  careful  a  noncommittal  air,  that 
the  pretty  dimple  which  always  showed  at  the  corner  of 
her  mouth  when  she  was  very  amused,  puckered  her  lips 
with  its  coming  and  going. 

"  I  see  you  have  guessed,"  she  said. 

"  Mr.  Marketel  said  he  was  passing,  my  Lady,"  Little- 
port  returned,  with  his  shrewd  smile.  "  He  said  he  had 
stopped  to  ask  if  we  could  put  him  up  over  the  week-end. 
Of  course  I  didn't  know  he  was  invited,  my  Lady,  seeing 
that  you  had  said  nothing  about  a  room  for  him." 

Amabelle  laughed  outright.  She  saw  that  Littleport  was 
quite  aware  that  Paul  Marketel  had  come  to  meet  Chi 
Lung, — but  all  she  said  was: 

"  I  can  trust  to  your  discretion." 

"  Sir  Arthur  gave  me  his  confidence  for  twenty  years," 
Littleport  told  her  proudly. 

"  I  know,"  went  on  Amabelle,  "  and  that  is  why  I  can 
speak  freely  to  you  now.  This  is  a  very  important  matter. 
It  may  be  the  turning-point  in  Sir  Roger's  career." 

'*  I  always  do  say  he  grows  more  like  his  father  every 
day,"  Littleport  put  in,  oblivious  of  the  fact  that  there  had 
been  months,  years  even,  when  he  had  not  seen  him.  "  I'm 
glad  Sir  Roger  is  to  have  his  chance,  my  Lady." 

Amabelle  smiled  appreciatively.  She  recognized  all  the 
affection  at  the  back  of  the  old  man's  observation. 

"  We  are  forgetting  Mr.  Marketel ! "  she  exclaimed. 
"Where  is  he?" 

"  I   told  Johnson   to   take   him   up  to   the   second   west 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  55 

room,"  Littleport  answered.  "  He  said  he  was  hot  and 
dusty  and  wanted  to  change." 

"  The  second  west  room,"  exclaimed  Amabelle.   "  Why  ?  " 

Littleport  answered  with  another  of  his  fine  smiles. 

"  His  Excellency  will  have  the  first,  and  the  dressing- 
room  for  his  study.  If  Mr.  Marketel  is  next-door,  they 
may  find  it  convenient  to  have  a  word  here  and  there. 
Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon  was  to  have  had  that  room,  but 
he  can  go  one  further  down  the  corridor,  though  Diplomacy 
does  go  in  to  dinner  before  Finance." 

Amabelle  suppressed  a  smile  of  another  kind  this  time. 
The  old  man's  foible  was  etiquette. 

"  What  I  don't  know  about  precedence  Burke  himself 
doesn't  know,"  she  had  once  heard  him  say  as  he  tutored 
a  raw  footman. 

"  I  meant  to  tell  you  later,"  Lady  de  la  Haye  went  on, 
"  that  we  should  want  you  to  help  us." 

Littleport  bowed  with  his  best  air  and  waited. 

"  His  Excellency  and  Mr.  Marketel  will  meet  in  the 
Chinese  Room,"  she  said.  "  Sir  Roger  must  join  them 
unobserved — and  secretly.  You  will  order  his  little  motor 
to  come  round,  and  then  come  and  tell  Sir  Roger  that  it 
is  at  the  door.  He  will  get  up,  saying  he  has  to  go  to 
Chipley  Magna  on  business." 

"Will  he  be  driving  himself?"  Littleport  asked. 

"  As  far  as  the  gate-house.  He  will  leave  the  car  there, 
come  up  the  path,  and  go  into  the  Chinese  Room " 

"  By  the  garden  door  at  the  side,"  finished  Littleport. 

"  Just  so,"  said  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

"  Then  I'd  better  go  and  put  the  key  in  my  pocket  for 
him  now,"  the  old  man  remarked. 

Amabelle  lifted  her  hand.  She  was  about  to  stop  him — 
to  say  who  was  in  the  Chinese  Room  at  that  moment — 
and  then  a  sudden  shyness  prevented  her.  Doubtless  Little- 
port had  already  observed  which  way  the  stream  was 
flowing.  She  watched  the  old  man  going  to  the  open  win- 
dow, and  her  throat  refused  to  make  a  sound,  but  suddenly 
he  swerved  and  looked  back  at  her. 


56  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Mr.  Marketel,  I  think,  my  Lady,"  he  remarked. 

He  went  along,  and  as  he  walked  down  the  terrace  Paul 
came  on  to  it. 

"  I  thought,"  Marketel  began,  advancing  with  his  hand 
held  out,  "  that  I  should  find  you  here." 

Amabelle  turned  to  meet  him,  and  it  was  possibly  because 
he  was  in  light  flannels  that  it  occurred  to  her  that  he  had 
never  looked  so  big.  She  said  to  herself,  "He's  like  a 
colossus — he  would  override  anybody  or  anything,  if  he 
thought  it  worth  while."  And  then,  with  a  touch  of  malice, 
she  remarked  aloud : 

"  It  is  delightful  of  you  to  chance  in  upon  us  in  this 
way." 

"  I  am  come  to  throw  myself  on  your  kindness,"  he 
answered,  in  the  same  strain.  The  next  moment  he  glanced 
quickly  about  him. 

"  Has  Chi  Lung  come  ?  "  he  demanded  abruptly. 

"  Not  yet." 

"  I  thought  he  would  have  been  here  by  now." 

"  He  originally  proposed  himself  for  yesterday,"  Lady 
de  la  Haye  answered,  "  then  he  put  off  his  arrival  until 
today,  and  even  now  he  hasn't  vouchsafed  to  tell  us  which 
train  he  is  coming  by,  or  if  he  means  to  come  by  road  or 
by  rail." 

"Do  you  think  that  unpromising?"  Paul  asked,  suddenly 
grave — anxious — for  even  to  him,  accustomed  as  he  was  to 
undertakings  on  a  large  scale,  this  loan  from  Britain  for 
a  Chinese  navy  was  a  v^ry  big  thing. 

"  No,"  Amabelle  assured  him,  "  merely  Celestial." 

She  waited  a  moment,  and  then  looked  up  with  that 
ingenuous  manner  which  made  her  seem  almost  girlish. 

"  This  is  a  great  opportunity  for  Roger,"  she  said  softly. 

"  He  deserves  it,"  answered  Paul.  "  He's  done  splendid 
work  in  the  East.  The  Foreign  Office  think  no  end  of 
him,  that's  why  they  have  appointed  him  to  watch  these 
negotiations.  It's  the  seal  of  his  success.  It  has  come 
young  to  him.  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  he's  a  Plenipo.  before  he 
is  forty,  and  has  Paris  before  he  retires.    A  great  career." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  57 

"  Yes,"  said  Lady  de  la  Haye,  and  then  she  added,  "  if 
nothing  comes  to  spoil  it,"  and  the  words  slipped  out  as 
if  someone  else,  not  she  herself,  had  said  them. 

Many  men  would  have  fenced.  Paul  faced  the  reserva- 
tion squarely. 

"  Is  something  wrong  ? "  he  asked.  "  I  fancied  you 
looked  troubled  when  I  first  saw  you." 

Amabelle  held  out  both  her  hands. 

"  Help  me,  Paul,"  she  besought. 

"  Help  you,"  he  returned,  and  there  was  a  world 
of  feeling  in  his  tone.  "  Tell  me  exactly  what  is 
wrong." 

"  But  I  don't  know  that  anything  is,"  she  answered,  half 
laughing  and  half  crying. 

'•  Then,"  he  retorted,  "  the  trouble  is  connected  with 
people,  not  things." 

She  nodded. 

"  But  how  did  you  guess  it?  " 

"  Things  are  expressed  by  facts,"  he  answered,  "  and 
facts  are  definite — people  are  expressed  by  opinion,  and 
there  is  nothing  certain  about  opinion,  excepting  that  it  is 
mutable." 

She  looked  at  him  and  smiled  wanly.  There  was  some- 
thing in  her  face  which  gave  him  a  clue. 

"Is  it  about  Roger?"  he  asked. 

"  You  have  heard  ?  "  she  blurted  out, 

"  Nothing,"  he  answered — "  only,  when  a  man's  best 
friend  is  in  Town  and  never  at  his  club  about  one-thirty, 
one  begins  to  wonder  what  woman  he  is  taking  out  to 
lunch.     Besides,"  he  said,  "  I  was  at  that  dance." 

"At  the  Tippley-Smiths?" 

"  Yes." 

"  They  have  moved  into  Grosvenor  Gardens  since  I  gave 
up  going  out." 

Paul  took  a  turn  down  the  terrace. 

"  An  unsuitable  wife  has  been  the  grave  of  more  than 
one  diplomatic  career,"  he  said  fiercely. 

Amabelle  followed  him  quickly. 


58  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Don't,"  she  cried  out.  "  I'm  giving  you  a  wrong  im- 
pression. Miss  Melsham  is  here  now.  She  is  with  Roger 
in  there." 

"  In  the  Chinese  Room  ?  "  Paul  asked. 

"  Yes." 

He  gave  a  subdued  breath  through  his  teeth. 

"  I  hke  her,  Paul,  I  like  her,"  Amabelle  went  on,  "  I 
know  I  do " 

"Well  then?"  he  asked. 

"  It's  the  unexpectedness  of  it,"  she  said.  "  It  put  me 
into  a  panic  for  fear  she  might  not  be  quite — quite " 

She  looked  down  and  blushed  hotly. 

"  When  I  heard  she  was  coming,"  she  confessed,  "  I  did 
a  mean  thing — I  sent  for  Victoria  Cresswell." 

The  announcement  had  an  effect  that  Lady  de  la  Haye 
by  no  means  anticipated. 

"  Victoria,"  echoed  Paul,  and  he  flung  round  with  an 
abrupt  movement.  Amabelle  caught  a  glimpse  of  his  face, 
of  its  sudden  lightening,  and  then  its  lowered  brows. 

"What  is  it?"  she  exclaimed. 

"  Tell  me  why  you  sent  for  Victoria,"  he  asked  curtly. 

"  You  see,"  Roger's  mother  admitted  tremulously,  "  I 
was  afraid  this  girl  might  be  one  of  those  garish  young 
women  one  does  see  going  round  Europe.  The  most  fas- 
tidious men  are  the  most  unaccountably  taken  in  at  times. 
My  experience  of  the  Continental  mothers  and  daughters 
led  me  to  dread  anything  of  the  kind  for  Roger.  Victoria 
represented  the  standard  he  had  been  used  to.  There  is 
nothing  more  illuminating  than  contrast.  If  that  contrast 
were  to  tell  against — against " 

"  I  see,"  put  in  Paul. 

"  It  was  better  he  should  observe  it  now  than  later." 

"  And  how  did  the  beautiful  lady  stand  the  test  ?  "  asked 
Paul,  half  amused,  half  dismayed  at  so  feminine  a 
mancEUver. 

Amabelle  drew  herself  up,  both  dignified  and  loyal,  if 
not  exactly  consistent. 

"  If  you   have   seen   Miss   Melsham,"   she   said,   "  you 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  59 

must  know  that  no  one  could  take  the  smallest  exception 
to  her." 

"What  is  it,  then?"  said  Paul,  still  probing  to  get  to 
the  root  of  the  trouble. 

"  Roger  is  so  reticent  about  the  mother,"  Amabelle  re- 
turned. "  I  can't  help  thinking  she  must  be  rather  foolish 
— or  undignified." 

"Isn't  that  better  than  being  interfering?"  said  Paul 
lightly,  but  speaking  out  of  a  certain  personal  experience. 

Amabelle  began  on  a  laugh,  but  it  ended  in  a  break. 

"  I  have  lost  my  bearings,"  she  said  piteously.  "  I  feel 
as  if  all  my  old  landmarks  had  gone.  That's  the  worst  of 
being  an  independent  woman  by  nature.  I  always  want  to 
lean  on  a  strong  man  when  I  find  one." 

But  her  weakness  was  over  in  a  moment. 

"  The  wise  submit  with  a  smile,  even  if  it  is  a  little 
awry,"  she  summed  up,  "  the  foolish  become  mothers-in- 
law." 

She  rose  as  she  said  that,  and  looked  at  the  tea  table. 

"  Make  tea,  Paul,"  she  said,  with  one  of  those  confes- 
sions of  femininity  that  she  could  make  so  delightful. 
"  I've  been  so  near  to  weeping  that  I'm  sure  my  eyes  are 
red.  I'm  going  to  powder  my  nose — and  I'll  tell  you  a 
secret.  A  woman's  heart  may  be  chipped,  but  it  isn't  abso- 
lutely broken  as  long  as  she  can  give  a  thought  to  her  com- 
plexion." 

Paul  just  laughed,  and  pulled  aside  the  curtain  into  the 
salon  for  her,  but  he  looked  after  her  gravely. 

"  She's  a  brave  woman,"  he  told  himself,  as  he  took  up 
the  tea  caddy.  He  made  sure  that  the  kettle  was  boiling, 
with  that  nice  attention  to  detail  a  bachelor  man  does  dis- 
])lay  in  domestic  matters,  and  then  his  quick  ear  caught 
the  sound  of  voices  talking  together  in  the  salon. 

"  Roger   and "   he   said   to   himself,   and   he   smiled 

grimly. 

The  silence  fell  again.  Roger  and  Naomi  Melsham  must 
both  have  gone  into  the  hall. 

Paul  felt  sure  it  was  Naomi.     He  went  on  with  the  tea- 


6o  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

making.  The  meal  was  delightfully  informal  at  Zouche, 
and  so,  for  the  benefit  of  any  late  comers,  the  tea  was 
always  made  in  one  of  the  two  big  teapots,  and  then  poured 
oflf  into  the  other.  Paul  went  on  with  what  he  called  the 
decanting  business,  and  when  that  was  finished  he  took  out 
a  cigarette. 

He  glanced  over  the  terrace,  on  to  the  bowling-green,  he 
changed  his  position  that  he  might  look  down  the  walk,  and 
varied  it  yet  again  to  watch  for  anyone  coming  through 
the  door  of  the  walled  garden.  Victoria  was  somewhere 
near.  He  checked  the  impulse  to  go  and  look  for  her. 
"  She  must  know  it  is  tea  time,"  he  told  himself. 

He  took  out  his  watch,  glanced  at  it,  and  shut  its  case 
with  an  impatient  snap,  and  then  he  heard  the  door  from 
the  hall  on  to  the  terrace,  the  one  he  had  used  himself, 
open. 

Paul  Marketel  knew  that  someone  feminine  was  coming 
towards  him,  but  even  before  he  looked  he  didn't  make 
the  mistake  of  thinking  it  was  Victoria.  Once  at  least  in  a 
lifetime,  most  men  differentiate,  where  one  woman  is  con- 
cerned, to  the  nicest  degree. 

He  faced  round,  and  before  the  figure  in  soft  pink,  with 
the  touch  of  green  round  the  slim  waist,  was  halfway  up 
the  terrace  he  knew  who  it  was. 

He  took  a  couple  of  quick  strides  forward  and  held  out 
his  hand. 

"  You  must  be  Miss  Melsham,"  he  began. 

"  And  I  see  you  are  Mr.  Marketel,"  Naomi  answered. 

"  That  is  nice  of  you  to  remember  me,"  he  went  on 
heartily. 

Naomi  smiled  at  him  with  a  kind  of  timid  friendliness,  as 
if  feeling  her  way. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  coming,"  she  went  on,  "  but 
then,  of  course,  excepting  the  great  Chinaman — I  have  just 
heard  all  about  him  and  I  do  so  want  to  see  him — I  don't 
know  who  is  coming." 

"  I'm  the  unexpected  pleasure,"  Paul  answered,  "  or  the 
bad  penny  always  turning  up." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  6i 

"  The  former,  of  course,"  said  Naomi.  "  A  noted  finan- 
cier must  not  suggest  anything  commercially  unsound." 

She  smiled  appealingly  at  the  big  man  as  she  made  her 
little  point.  She  wanted  a  favorable  verdict,  not  for  any 
ulterior  reason,  but  just  because  Paul  Marketel  was  Roger 
de  la  Haye's  best  friend.  A  woman  always  takes  a  definite 
line  towards  a  man's  friends  from  the  very  first  moment 
that  she  admits  her  own  interest  in  him.  She  either  seeks 
to  draw  them  nearer  to  her,  or  plays  to  antagonize  them. 
The  one  is  the  outcome  of  a  large  outlook,  the  other  of  a 
narrow  jealousy.  Nine  times  out  of  ten  they  meet  with  their 
appropriate  reward.  The  tenth,  the  man  pays — and  curses 
himself  for  a  poor  thing. 

"  Did  you  expect  to  find  Lady  de  la  Haye  here  ?  "  Paul 
began.    "  She  will  be  back  in  a  moment." 

Naomi  nodded.  In  reality  she  had  been  shy  about  coming 
to  meet  Lady  de  la  Haye  with  Roger  behind  her.  So  she 
made  an  excuse.  The  sun  was  hot.  She  would  put  on  a 
garden  hat. 

She  had  seen  Littleport  stop  Roger  as  she  went  up  the 
stairs,  and  she  had  stolen  down  so  cautiously,  her  cheeks  a 
little  the  pinker  for  the  precaution,  just  that  she  might  get  to 
Lady  de  la  Haye  alone. 

She  and  Paul  moved  back  to  the  tea  table,  but  when  he 
offered  her  a  seat  she  shook  her  head. 

"  I  want  to  look  about  me,"  she  said,  and  her  eagerness 
was  almost  childish.    "  I  want  to  see  everything." 

Paul  pointed  out  the  gate-house,  and  told  her  its  supposed 
history;  he  showed  her  the  high  wall  of  old  red  brick, 
inclosing  a  wonderful  rose  garden,  he  drew  her  attention  to 
the  sundial,  set  up  on  the  ledge  of  the  bowling-green,  and 
told  her  how  Sir  Arthur  had  brought  it  from  Pekin. 

"  The  Chinese,"  he  said,  "  began  to  use  astronomical  in- 
struments before  the  Europeans  got  farther  than  realizing 
that  there  was  a  sun  and  a  moon.  This  dial  is  a  copy  of 
a  primitive  one  which  stood  for  ages  on  the  great  wall.  The 
Germans  carried  off  the  original  after  the  Boxer  Riots." 

"  How  interesting,"  Naomi  murmured.     She  raised  her 


62  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

blue  eyes.  "  I'm  lost  in  admiration  wherever  I  go/'  she 
said  softly,  "  and  yet  there  is  nothing  of  the  show  place 
about  Zouche.  Tell  me!  how  does  it  manage  to  be  so 
wonderful  and  yet  so  homelike  ?  " 

"Isn't  that  the  effect  of  individual  temperament?"  Paul 
rejoined.  "  I  mean,"  he  went  on,  feeling  that  it  would  be 
well  to  make  this  point  very  clear,  "  that  Lady  de  la  Haye 
would  radiate  happiness,  and  therefore  warmth,  wherever 
she  went." 

"  Sir  Roger  evidently  thinks  there  is  no  one  like  his 
mother,"  Naomi  answered  quickly. 

"  Do  you  wonder  at  that  ?  "  asked  Paul.  "  I  never  knew 
my  mother,"  he  went  on  gravely.  "  I  always  feel  that  I 
have  missed  one  of  the  greatest  things  in  life." 

There  was  no  answering  consent  in  Naomi's  mind.  Her 
mother  represented  a  drawback,  not  an  advantage.  She 
looked  up  and  met  Paul  Marketel's  glance.  It  was  so 
grave,  yet  so  kindly,  that  it  was  possible  she  might  have 
blurted  out  a  part  of  the  truth,  if  not  the  whole  truth,  and 
thereby  altered  the  whole  course  of  her  life's  history, — 
people  so  often  did  confide  in  Paul  Marketel.  But  at  that 
moment  Roger  came  hurriedly  on  to  the  terrace. 

"  I  thought  I  was  never  going  to  get  away,"  he  began. 
"  Littleport  got  hold  of  me — he's  full  of  arrangements."  He 
pulled  up.  "  You  here,  Paul,"  he  said.  "  That's  splen- 
did." 

"  Come  to  throw  myself  on  your  mercy,"  Marketel 
answered. 

Roger  nodded.  He  didn't  want  to  enlarge  on  the  decep- 
tion before  Naomi.  He  looked  ahead.  "  Why !  "  he  ex- 
claimed, "where  is  my  mother?" 

Amabelle  might  have  heard  the  impatient  voice,  for  at 
that  very  moment  she  came  through  the  window  of  the 
salon. 

"  Ah !  "  she  said  lightly,  "  you  here."  She  turned  to  the 
girl.    "  Have  you  seen  all  the  treasures  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  think,"  began  Naomi  eagerly,  "  that  the  Chinese  Room 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  63 

is  the  most  beautiful  room  I  have  ever  seen.    Even  I  should 
write  good  letters  at  that  wonderful  old  desk." 

"  Mother,"  said  Roger,  "  do  you  know  the  spring  of  the 
secret  drawer  failed  to  act  ?  I  opened  the  drawer,  and  then 
shut  it  in  the  usual  way,  but  the  spring  hadn't  caught.  It 
would  open  again  before  I  turned  the  key  in  the  lock." 

"  It  did  that  once  before,"  Lady  de  la  Haye  answered. 

"  In  my  father's  time  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Amabelle. 

"  And  how  did  he  get  it  put  right?  "  Roger  asked. 

"  There's  a  master  spring  at  the  back — I'll  show  it  to  you," 
Amabelle  said.    She  waited  a  momer  t. 

"  It  seems  foolish,"  she  went  on,  "  but  don't  mention  this 
to  Chi  Lung.  Chinamen  go  by  omens  more  than  one  would 
think " 

"  And  the  last  time  the  drawer  didn't  catch "  put  in 

Roger. 

"  The  negotiations  fell  through." 

"  Then,"  announced  Paul,  "  we  must  certainly  none  of  us 
mention  it  now." 

A  glance  from  Lady  de  la  Haye  stopped  him.  She  began 
to  make  the  tea.  She  was  just  wondering  aloud  whether 
Aimee  could  have  taken  Victoria  to  the  Rectory — did  she 
see  Paul  Marketel's  face  suddenly  go  blank? — and  then  the 
girl  herself  ran  up  the  steps  from  the  bowling-green. 

"  Ursa  Major,"  began  Aimee,  as  Paul  went  along  to  meet 
her.  She  put  her  arm  in  his.  "  Victoria  is  coming  pres- 
ently," she  remarked.  "  She  suddenly  turned  tail  and 
said " 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Paul  sharply. 

He  was  never  answered.  He  and  Aimee  had  reached  the 
round  table,  Roger  had  risen. 

"  Aimee,  I  don't  think  you  have  met  Miss  Melsham,"  he 
began,  and  his  tone  was  almost  severe.  It  seemed  to  him 
odd  at  least — if  not  well  on  the  way  to  being  wrong — that 
anyone  should  claim  attention  before  Naomi  had  been  duly 
honored. 


64  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"I  have  always  lived  at  Zouche,"  began  Aimee,  as  she 
offered  her  hand.  "  Auntie  says  I  might  as  well  be  her  own 
daughter.    Don't  you,  dear  ?  "  appealing  to  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

"  You  will  always  be  my  child  to  me,"  she  said. 

She  understood.  Aimee  was  being  visited  by  a  tinge  of 
jealousy.  Naomi  heard  the  intonation  too.  She  might  not 
quite  grasp  the  cause,  but  she  was  sure  of  the  antagonism. 
It  was  the  first  warning  of  disapproval. 

She  moved  her  chair,  so  that  Aimee  must  take  the  one 
by  her.  She  looked  down,  and  was  just  wondering  which 
was  the  nearest  road  to  the  girl's  heart,  when  a  cynical 
comment  of  her  mother's  came  into  her  mind. 

"  Never  neglect  the  flapper,"  Mrs.  Melsham  once  ob- 
served.   "  One  day  she  may  be  a  duchess." 

Naomi  returned  hastily  to  her  tea — silenced.  Even  from 
afar,  Mrs.  Melsham  had  the  power  to  spoil  things,  to  sug- 
gest sordid  views  and  interested  motives. 

Yet,  even  as  she  made  the  bitter  comment,  this  new  soften- 
ing that  was  wrapping  itself,  like  a  beautiful  veil,  around 
her  mind,  stopped  her. 

Here  at  least  she  would  banish  such  thoughts. 

She  looked  over  to  the  heads  of  a  row  of  poplars  visible 
above  the  garden  wall,  as  if  their  very  uprightness  and 
beauty  were  a  protection.  She  bid  herself  take  heed  of  the 
summer  day,  of  the  warmth  and  the  light,  as  if  telling  her- 
self that  dark  thoughts  were  an  incongruity  not  to  be 
admitted  in  such  an  environment ;  and  so  it  fell  out  that 
she,  alone,  was  looking  straight  down  the  terrace.  She  gave 
a  start,  uttered  an  exclamation  of  surprise. 

A  little  old  man  appeared  at  the  head  of  the  steps,  he 
pattered  along  with  shuffling  feet,  as  if  he  habitually  wore 
loose  soft  boots,  and  then,  when  he  saw  the  group  by  the 
tea  table,  he  pulled  up,  as  if  it  were  for  those  there  before 
him  to  come  to  him,  and  for  him  to  wait  to  receive  them. 

Naomi  but  glanced  at  the  quaint  figure,  at  a  curious 
mingling  of  the  East  and  the  West  in  the  costume — and 
she  knew  before  Roger  whispered  the  name  to  her  that  it 
must  be  the  little  great  man  of  China. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  65 

Lady  de  la  Haye  rose  instantly. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  began  as  she  hurried  towards 
him.  "  You  have  walked,  and  we  sent  two  cars  to  meet 
you." 

The  old  man  stood  before  her  smiling  blandly.  There 
was  something  of  the  impish  child  in  his  expression.  Chi 
Lung,  the  greatest  power  of  his  day  in  the  East,  the  far- 
seeing  diplomat,  who  linked  his  country  to  the  West,  with 
a  foresight  that  may  yet  turn  out  to  be  one  of  the  great 
features  of  the  world's  progress,  wore  exactly  the  smile  of 
a  clever  child  who  knows  that  it  has  done  something  tire- 
some, but  who  is  sure  of  commendation  rather  than  of 
blame,  because  it  has  been  tiresome  in  such  an  original 
manner. 

"  I  bore  myself  on  the  vehicles  of  nature,"  the  old  man 
began,  as  he  patted  Lady  de  la  Haye's  hand.  "  The  green 
and  the  refreshing  shade  remind  me  of  the  lotus  and  the 
bamboo  of  my  own  poor  dwelling  in  the  Ever  Blessed 
Middle  Kingdom." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  laughed  indulgently,  but  not  quite  easily, 
for  she  was  not  unmindful  of  the  indications.  The  Marquis 
Chi  Lung  had  various  sides  to  his  nature,  and  a  manner 
appropriate  to  each  one.  When  it  pleased  him  he  could  turn 
himself  into  a  very  fair  imitation  of  a  European;  when  it 
pleased  him  he  could  be  as  Celestial  as  the  most  stay-at- 
home  mandarin,  and  there  were  occasions  when,  of  set  pur- 
pose, he  could  be  unpardonably  rude.  Just  now,  when  she 
wished,  for  a  particular  reason,  that  he  should  view  the  sit- 
uation from  a  Western  standpoint,  his  freakish  arrival 
pointed  exactly  the  opposite  way. 

She  glanced  apprehensively  at  him.  The  long,  oval  face 
was  impassive  to  stolidity,  the  oblique  eyes  blinked  as  if  the 
mere  act  of  vision  irked  them — Chi  Lung  seemed  mostly 
occupied  in  stroking  his  beard. 

"  Why  doesn't  Roger  come  at  once  ?  "  Amabelle  asked 
herself.  Roger  knew  all  about  Chinese  standards.  He  knew 
exactly  what  Chi  Lung  would  deem  his  due,  and  what  the 
old  man  would  resentfully  consider  less  than  his  due,  and 


66  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

there  was  he,  pausing  but  a  moment  it  is  true,  yet  still 
pausing,  to  turn  the  hooded  bench,  since  the  sun  came 
straight  into  Naomi  Melsham's  face. 

"  Roger  !  "  she  called.     "  Roger  !  " 

He  came  on  the  very  sound  of  her  voice,  but  Amabelle 
had  no  hope  that  the  incident  had  escaped  his  Excellency, 
or  that  the  old  man,  with  his  jealous  affection,  would  fail 
to  resent  being  kept  waiting,  even  for  a  moment,  for  a 
woman,  and,  worse  still,  for  a  young  and  pretty  one. 

If  Chi  Lung  did  consider  himself  slighted,  there  was 
nothing  to  show  it.  He  put  one  of  his  yellowed  old  hands, 
with  every  bony  articulation  showing  through  the  skin,  on 
either  of  Roger's  shoulders. 

"  Behold !  "  his  Excellency  began,  "  the  pear  is  off  the 
same  tree." 

He  looked  long  at  the  young  clean-shaven  face.  "  The 
look  is  the  same  as  his  father's,  but  the  expression  is 
different,"  he  went  on,  noting  a  certain  shy  oversensitive- 
ness  in  the  young  man's  eyes.  "  It  is  as  if  both  the  gadfly 
and  the  housefly  had  power  to  sting  him.  My  son,"  he 
continued,  "  it  is  written  in  our  wisdom  that  the  man  who 
sees  all  white  is  as  deceived  as  he  who  sees  all  yellow.  The 
one  gone  to  rest  made  few  mistakes — he  knew  that  gray  was 
but  white  dust  mixed  with  a  handful  of  black  mud,  and 
orange  but  yellow  clay  mixed  with  a  little  red  earth." 

Roger  laughed — but  constrainedly.  For  one  thing,  he 
wondered  how  so  florid  a  greeting  would  strike  Naomi 
Melsham;  for  another,  the  old  Chinaman  had  put  his  finger 
on  a  weak  spot.  Sir  Arthur  de  la  Haye  possessed  a  mind 
of  almost  perfect  balance.  Amabelle's  was  so  innately  a 
sunny  nature  that  it  took  a  great  deal  to  disturb  her.  By 
some  odd  turn  of  heredity  Roger's  disposition  was  inclined 
to  oversensitiveness.  It  was  only  his  frank  acceptance 
of  the  fact  which  saved  him  from  a  meticulous  con- 
science. 

Then  abruptly  his  Excellency  pushed  Roger  away  and 
pointed  to  Naomi. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  67 

**  Behold,  the  hornet  leaves  the  pumpkin  aside  and  fastens 
on  the  golden  plum,"  he  exclaimed,  and  his  tone  was  abrupt 
— fierce,  even. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  had  no  word  for  the  sudden  outburst. 
Her  worst  fears  had  been  realized.  Chi  Lung  had  observed 
Roger's  interest  in  this  golden-haired  girl,  and  evidently 
resented  it. 

It  was  Paul  Marketel  who  saved  the  situation. 

"You  remember  me,  your  Excellency?"  he  interposed 
quickly. 

The  Celestial  put  both  his  hands  into  his  sleeves,  and 
hunched  his  body  over  them. 

"  Behold !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  it  is  the  man  of  so  much 
money  that  he  lends  of  his  superfluity  to  Princes  and 
Powers.  But  money  comes  not  of  itself — it  must  be  gath- 
ered— will  he  want  to  take  from  this  inconsiderable  one  even 
the  Httle  that  he  has?" 

He  looked  from  face  to  face  and  laughed  slyly  at  his  own 
witticism. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  put  in  Amabelle  anxiously,  for  evi- 
dently her  old  friend  was  in  a  perverse  mood,  "  you  recall 
Monsieur  de  Villeseptier.  He  was  with  us  in  the  days  gone 
by  at  Pekin.  He  was  as  a  right  hand  to  my  husband,  and 
you  yourself  accorded  him  the  gift  of  friendship." 

The  old  man  nodded. 

"  He  went  to  walk  in  the  Eternal  Shades  before  his  time," 
he  said  gravely. 

"  He  and  his  wife  too,"  answered  Lady  de  la  Haye.  She 
repressed  a  shudder.  It  was  nearly  eighteen  years  ago,  and 
yet  she  could  not  think  of  that  awful  time  when  an  outbreak 
of  plague,  laying  low  its  thousands,  robbed  her  of  her  two 
best  friends  in  less  than  twelve  hours. 

"  I  have  written  him  in  the  tablets  of  my  memory,"  Chi 
Lung  answered,  and  characteristically  while  he  remembered 
the  man  he  ignored  the  lovely  girl,  his  wife. 

"  This  is  his  child,"  Amabelle  went  on,  drawing  up  Aimee. 
"  She  has  lived  with  me  ever  since.     She  was  called  Ama- 


68  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

belle  after  me,  but  we  always  call  her  Aimee.  She  is  as 
dear  as  my  own  daughter  to  me." 

"So,"  remarked  his  Excellency.  "How  old  are  you?" 
he  asked,  turning  to  Aimee,  for  he  bestowed  a  certain 
amount  of  interest  on  her,  seeing  she  was,  as  he  would  have 
put  it,  part  of  Roger's  house. 

"  Seventeen,"  answered  the  girl,  in  quite  a  meek  little 
voice. 

His  Excellency  took  out  his  snufT  bottle,  and  carefully 
poured  a  little  of  the  brown  powder  into  his  hand.  Amabelle 
quailed  inwardly.  Her  old  friend  was  indeed  minded  to  be 
aggressively  Oriental  this  afternoon.  She  had  not  seen  him 
take  snuff  in  public  since  he  put  an  insolent  German  in  his 
place,  quite  ten  years  ago, 

"  It  is  time  the  rings  were  in  her  ears.  You  should  buy 
a  husband  for  her,"  he  went  on,  after  he  had  scooped  the 
snuff  into  his  nostrils  with  the  tiny  spoon  attached  to  the 
stopper  of  his  bottle — and  he  nodded  towards  Aimee.  "  She 
will  make  a  useful  help  to  Roger.  Offer  her  to  one  that  has 
the  ear  of  the  Yamen,  but  arrange  quickly ;  the  sweeter  the 
perfume  the  uglier  the  flies  which  gather  round  the  bottle." 

There  might  have  been  an  embarrassed  pause  after  that 
candid  appraisement,  but  Aimee  broke  in  on  it. 

"  Aunt  Amabelle  has  told  me,"  she  said,  "  how  your 
Excellency  helped  her  that  time  when  I  was  a  tiny  baby, 
and  people  were  afraid  of  going  into  my  father's  because 
of  the  infection.  I  often  think  of  it — and  all  you  did  for 
my  father  too." 

Artlessly  she  had  struck  the  right  note. 

"  Gratitude  is  the  lotus  flower  of  the  spirit,"  Chi  Lung 
observed.    "  I  will  send  you  a  roll  of  silk.  Mademoiselle." 

"  For  me !  "  Aimee  exclaimed.  She  knew  no  greater  com- 
pliment could  have  been  paid  her.  "  Oh,  thank  you,"  she 
ran  on,  "  but  I  knew  you  were  nice  before  you  said  that." 

"  I  will  send  you  two  rolls  of  silk,"  Chi  Lung  announced. 
"  You  have  inculcated  the  seven  virtues,  I  see,"  he  said, 
turning  to  Lady  de  la  Haye.  "  That  is  well !  The  woman 
greeted  with  favor  who  refrains  from  importunity  is  as  rare 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  69 

as  twin  pearls  in  one  oyster  shell.  None  the  less,"  added  his 
Excellency,  dry  again  in  a  flash,  "  when  a  woman's  lips  say 
it  is  enough  she  looks  at  you  with  her  eyes  and  they  say 
again,"  then  he  put  out  his  hand,  and  caught  Lady  de  la 
Haye  by  her  sleeve. 

"  There  is  a  jay  chattering  to  the  Hope  of  the  House," 
he  said. 

"  That  is  Miss  Melsham,"  was  all  Amabelle  could  say. 
"  I  was  waiting  until  your  Excellency  had  finished  talking 
to  Aimee,"  put  in  Roger.    He  passed  the  matter  over  to  his 
mother  with  a  wave  of  his  hand. 

"  His  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung,  Miss  Melsham," 
Amabelle  said. 

The  girl  came  smilingly  forward.  She  had  watched  the 
old  man  with  Aimee.  She  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
under  a  somewhat  redoubtable  exterior,  the  Celestial  had 
a  very  human  heart.  But  there  was  nothing  benevolent  in 
the  look  bestowed  on  her.  Naomi  felt  she  must  not  fail 
where  a  schoolgirl  had  succeeded. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  began,  "  I  have  heard  so  much 
about  you." 

"  Who  has  gossiped  about  old  Chi  Lung  to  a  woman  ?  " 
the  old  man  demanded. 

"  Sir  Roger,"  Naomi  answered. 

"  So !  "  remarked  his  Excellency.  "  The  son  of  my  old 
friend  makes  stories  for  the  house  at  the  expense  of  this 
poor  one." 

"  No !  no !  "  expostulated  Naomi — feeling  that  the  inter- 
view was  going  all  wrong.  "  He  was  only  saying  nice 
things." 

"  Nice  ?  "  asked  the  Celestial. 

"  He  was  telling  me  about  the  tombs  of  your  ancestors." 

"  And  what  of  my  poor  belongings  ?  "  the  old  man  asked. 

"  That  you  cared  so  much  for  them." 

"  Cared,"  repeated  his  Excellency.    "  What  is  that  ?  " 

"  Well,"  stammered  the  girl,  "  it — it  is  so  wonderful " 

She  began  to  flounder  in  her  embarrassment. 

Chi  Lung  watched  her  malevolently.    Roger  made  a  step 


70  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

between  them,  and  Amabelle  felt  so  sure  that  she  must 
intervene  that  she  came  out  with  the  first  thing  she 
remembered. 

"  Another  friend,  but  of  Roger's  days  at  Pekin,  this  time, 
is  coming,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "  Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon. 
Do  you  remember  him  ?  " 

"  Armand,"  exclaimed  Marketel.  "  What's  his  latest 
craze  this  time?    Last  time  I  saw  him " 

He  was  stopped  by  Naomi  Melsham,  her  voice  was  so 
urgent. 

"Who  .   .   .  who  did  you  say?"  she  asked. 

"  Armand  de  Rochecorbon,"  Paul  answered. 

"  My  cousin,"  put  in  Aimee. 

Naomi  let  her  hands  fall  to  her  side  with  a  helpless  ges- 
ture— she  stepped  back,  out  of  the  circle,  out  of  the  sun- 
light. 

"Do  you  know  Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon?"  Amabelle 
asked  her. 

The  girl  seemed  to  consider  a  moment.  It  flashed  into 
Amabelle's  mind  that  this  might  be  a  case  of  expediency,  not 
of  truth.  The  next  instant  a  frank  statement  seemed  to 
reprove  her. 

"  We  have  met  so  many  people,"  Naomi  explained,  "  that 
it  is  difficult  to  say.  Mama  wanders  so,  that  I  can  never 
be  quite  sure  about  anyone.  We  did  meet  a  Monsieur  de 
Rochecorbon — but  that  was  years  ago  at  Nice  " — she  raised 
her  eyes  and  looked  hard  at  Roger — "  that  was  the  year  I 
went  to  live  with  mama,"  she  told  him.  "  The  very  first 
year,"  she  insisted. 


CHAPTER  VI 

"  Your  Excellency,"  began  Paul  Marketel,  about  ten  min- 
utes later — that  is  as  soon  as  he  could  disturb  the  party 
round  the  tea  table  and  draw  the  old  Chinaman  aside — "  we 
are  to  meet  in  the  Chinese  Room;  I  will  join  you  there  in 
half  an  hour." 

"  The  sun  is  hot  without,"  Chi  Lung  demurred,  "  but  the 
blinds  are  drawn,  and  there  is  shade  within  the  four  walls 
of  the  house." 

Paul  shook  his  head. 

"  In  half  an  hour,  your  Excellency,"  he  maintained,  and 
he  had  two  reasons  for  his  firmness.  One  was,  the  con- 
sideration that  when  you  have  something  to  sell  it  is  never 
wise  to  appear  too  eager  to  meet  the  buyer,  how  much  less 
if  that  buyer  be  an  Oriental.  The  other,  that  he  had  a 
pressing  personal  afifair  to  dispose  of. 

Victoria  Cresswell  had  not  appeared.  It  was  possible  that 
she  was  purposely  going  without  tea  to  avoid  him,  and 
that  seemed  to  him  so  intolerable  that  he  determined  to  go 
in  search  of  her. 

"  I  want  to  find  Miss  Cresswell,"  he  said  to  Lady  de  la 
Haye.  "  I  must  see  her  before  I  begin  my  letters."  He 
paused  and  smiled  dubiously.  "  It's  about  some  business," 
he  went  on,  with  the  awkwardness  of  an  honest  man  telling 
but  a  part  of  the  truth.  "  I  have  prevailed  on  Miss  Cress- 
well to  let  me  go  into  her  afifairs.  Her  investments  were 
— er — unsuitable.  She  saw  that  herself  as  soon  as  I  pointed 
it  out.    She  has  quite  a  gift  for  finance." 

He  turned  away  without  waiting  for  a  reply.  People 
who  have  to  fight  for  their  own  hand — and  do  it  success- 
fully— can  usually  dispense  with  the  stimulus  of  approval. 
Perhaps,  however,  even  he  might  have  paused,  had  he  caught 

7« 


72  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

the  look  on  Lady  de  la  Haye's  face.  She  was  dismayed, 
but  enlightened.  Here  was  the  clue  to  the  something  strange 
in  Victoria,  to  the  something  unusual  in  Paul  himself. 

"  Do  you  think  I  have  forgotten  when  I  began  to  find 
diplomacy  interesting?"  Amabelle  murmured  to  herself. 
"  Don't  you  understand,"  her  mind  ran  on,  with  the  pity  of 
the  perspicacious  feminine  for  the  masculine  bat,  "  that 
there  is  no  subject,  from  rag-picking  to  the  differential  cal- 
culus, a  woman  won't  find  absorbing,  if  the  right  man  only 
explains  it  to  her  in  the  right  way  ?  " 

She  looked  after  the  powerful  frame  going  down  towards 
the  rose  garden. 

"  Has  he  forgotten  that  Victoria  has  been  engaged  to 
Billy  Hirst  since  she  was  eighteen?"  she  protested  in- 
wardly. 

Perhaps  her  unspoken  dismay  communicated  itself  to 
Paul.  He  paused,  with  his  hand  on  the  latch  of  the  old 
wooden  door.  For  one  moment  he  put  this  straight  ques- 
tion to  himself,  "  Have  I  the  right  to  supplant  ?  "  No  honest 
man  can  step  into  another  man's  shoes  and  not  be  visited  by 
doubts.  But,  having  weighed  them,  may  it  not  be  a  finer 
virtue  to  go  on  than  to  go  back? — for,  recollect,  such  a  de- 
cision affects  two  lives,  not  one; — only  one  must  be  very 
sure  where  the  virtue  comes  in,  and  where  the  vice. 

Paul  rattled  the  handle  of  the  door  impatiently — and 
turned  it. 

He  was  right.  Victoria  was  there.  There  was  a  fountain 
in  the  midst  of  the  square,  with  four  grass  paths  converging 
on  it,  and  roses  everywhere.  He  walked  up  to  her,  and  as 
he  approached,  Victoria's  face,  which  never  had  very  much 
color  in  it,  went  a  shade  whiter.  Her  hands  began  to  work 
nervously.  She  plucked  a  flower,  and  began  to  pull  it  to 
pieces. 

Victoria  was  in  that  odd  stage  in  feminine  development 
when  the  more  one  longs  for  a  thing  the  greater  the  pre- 
cautions to  turn  from  it. 

Besides,  she  was,  in  a  way,  very  like  a  boat  without  a 
rudder.    Until  she  saw  Paul,  Victoria  had  lived  singularly 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  ,73 

aloof  from  men.  Some  girls  are  women  before  they  leave 
off  being  children.  Now  and  then  a  woman  is  totally  unin- 
fluenced by  the  masculine  element  until  she  meets  the  man 
who,  whether  it  ever  comes  to  fulfilment  or  not,  is  essen- 
tially her  man.  Everything  about  her  had  conspired  to 
retard  Victoria's  development,  just  as  everything  had  con- 
spired to  force  Naomi  Melsham's.  Victoria's  youth  was 
passed  in  a  remote  village  with  a  certain  Aunt  Martha,  and 
this  Aunt  Martha  had  a  talent  for  doing  harm  in  the  cause 
of  righteousness.  The  old  lady  held  that  the  rising  genera- 
tion stood  in  need  of  perpetual  suppression,  and  that 
originality  was  rather  more  heinous  than  sin.  It  said  much 
for  the  firmness  of  Victoria's  fiber  that  she  had  any  initia- 
tive left.  As  it  was,  no  sooner  was  she  released  from  Aunt 
Martha's  tyranny  than  her  whole  being  expanded  with  a 
bound.  Aunt  Martha,  who  had  never  allowed  Victoria  the 
smallest  insight  into  her  affairs,  never  troubled  about  the 
inconsistency  of  leaving,  what  the  obituary 'notice  called  "  the 
unsettled  property,"  to  Victoria  absolutely.  The  girl  was  as 
bewildered  as  she  was  ignorant,  and  naturally  she  put  her 
faith  in  the  man  who  made  Aunt  Martha's  will — Edward 
Buzby.  He  managed  Billy  Hirst's  affairs  too — and  Victoria 
was  engaged  to  Billy.  That  was  another  of  Aunt  Martha's 
arrangements,  and,  unfortunately,  when  the  pious  woman 
arranges  the  affairs  of  others  in  the  way  that  is  best  for 
them — (or  so  it  pleases  her  to  think) — the  harm  she  does 
has  a  way  of  persisting. 

The  landed  estate  devolved  on  Billy,  so  the  old  lady,  who 
always  quoted  that  money  was  the  root  of  evil,  juggled  with 
two  lives  to  keep  the  property  together. 

As  for  Victoria,  while  Aunt  Martha  lived,  Billy  was  for 
her  the  only  soul  who  pulled  up,  for  even  half  an  inch,  the 
blind  of  the  window  looking  on  to  the  world. 

Essentially,  Billy  Hirst  was  a  very  fine  gentleman — Aunt 
Martha  treated  him  shamelessly — and  no  one  ever  knew  of 
his  dismay  when  he  realized  that  he  was  caught.  He  played 
his  part  so  well  that,  even  when  Victoria  came  to  see  that 
Billy  was  grateful  each  time  she  relegated  the  wedding  day 


74  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

to  a  future  occasion — she  never  realized  that  he  would  have 
been  more  grateful  still,  had  she  given  him  back  the  engage- 
ment ring. 

Then,  with  Aunt  Martha's  death,  came  Victoria's  eman- 
cipation, her  eager  look  out  on  to  the  world — and  Paul 
Marketel. 

Paul  came  right  up  to  her  with  a  grim  smile.  Neither 
of  them  uttered  a  word  of  conventional  greeting,  but  not  a 
single  symptom  of  her  distress  escaped  him.  It  hurt  him 
and  yet  it  hardened  him. 

"  I  want  my  answer,"  he  began.  "  I  must  have  it.  I  never 
wanted  anyone  until " 

Just  because  Victoria  knew  how  the  abrupt,  unadorned 
sentence  would  end,  just  because  there  was  nothing  she 
wanted  more  to  hear,  she  interrupted  hastily. 

"  Please,  Paul.  You — you  have  arrived  so  unex- 
pectedly  " 

She  looked  down.  She  clasped  her  hands  nervously  to- 
gether, and  that  showed  the  ring,  still  on  her  third  finger. 
Paul  muttered  a  hard  word. 

"  Look  here,"  he  began,  "  we  can't  go  on  like  this.  I'm 
not  so  young  as  I  was,  and  at  my  age,  when  one  gets  things 
for  the  first  time,  one  gets  'em  badly.  Have  you  told 
Billy?" 

Victoria  rose.  She  lifted  her  head  and  looked  the  big  man 
in  the  face.  It  was  these  moments  of  swift  resolution  that 
particularly  appealed  to  Paul. 

"  I  have  not  told  Billy,"  she  answered.  "  I  cannot  tell  him." 

"  But  you  promised." 

"  I  know,"  Victoria  answered — "  but  you  must  release  me 
from  that  promise." 

"Release  you!    Why?" 

"  Billy  is  in  trouble." 

"  In  trouble,"  reiterated  Marketel. 

"  In  serious  trouble,"  Victoria  answered. 

Paul  motioned  her  authoritively  to  the  seat,  "  Sit  down," 
he  said  quietly,  "  and  tell  me  exactly  what  has  happened." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  75 

"  You  know  Edward  Buzby  did  Billy's  business  as  well 
as  mine,"  Victoria  began. 

"  A  pretentious  fool,"  Marketel  interpolated. 

"  Aunt  Martha  liked  him,"  Victoria  murmured. 

"  She  would,"  Paul  answered,  and  he  laughed  shortly. 
Then  they  were  both  suddenly  silent.  Without  visible  ap- 
proach, they  had  never  been  closer,  and  the  proximity  made 
both  of  them  breathless. 

It  was  Victoria  who  recovered  first. 

"  But  for  you,"  she  said,  looking  steadily  before  her, 
"  I  should  be  where  Billy  is  now." 

And  then,  since  she  was  not  one  of  those  irritating  people 
who  hover  round  an  announcement,  she  went  on — "  Edward 
Buzby  disappeared  last  Wednesday.  He  left  his  affairs  in 
hopeless  confusion.  Billy  is  quite  poor  now,  he's  coming 
here  this  afternoon,  just  for  a  last  fling,  as  he  calls  it. 
After  that,  he'll  have  to  do  something.  He  hasn't  as  many 
hundreds  left  as  he  had  thousands." 

Paul  was  silent  for  quite  a  long  time.  He  looked  up  at  a 
fussy  little  cloud  racing  over  an  expanse  of  blue.  Ap- 
parently, his  whole  interest  was  taken  up  with  its  rate  of 
progress,  but  in  reality  he  was  reflecting  on  the  tricks  and 
quips  of  Fate.  Edward  Buzby  had  impressed  him  so  un- 
favorably the  one  time  he  had  had  an  interview  with  him, 
that  he  had  once  thought  of  giving  Billy  a  hint,  but  the  "  not- 
my-business  "  frame  of  mind  prevailed — and  now,  the  ques- 
tion of  Buzby's  honesty — or  dishonesty — had  coiled  itself 
around  the  very  framework  of  his  own  life. 

The  next  moment,  he  left  the  question  of  correlative 
causes  and  came  back  to  the  practical  aspect. 

"  I'm  sorry  for  Billy,"  he  said,  "  but  how  does  his  loss 
affect  you  and  me  ?  " 

"  Can't  you  see?  "  Victoria  returned.  "  This  has  made  all 
the  difference.    Billy  is  poor  now." 

"  It  is  a  question  of  affection,  not  of  finance,"  muttered 
Paul. 

"  I  know,"  the  girl  answered,  "  but  look  at  it  for  your- 


76  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

self.  You  ask  me  to  break  off  my  engagement,  to  go  and 
tell  Billy  that— that " 

"  I  love  you,  and  he  doesn't,  and  that  you  don't  love 
him " 

"  I  can't— I  can't,"  the  girl  faltered. 

"  Billy  does  not  want  you ;  I  do,"  Paul  protested. 

Victoria  stood  with  her  head  cast  down,  but,  as  Paul  knew 
all  too  w»ll,  unconvinced. 

He  walked  to  the  edge  of  the  stone  basin,  and  stood  with 
his  hands  in  his  pockets,  his  lower  lip  thrust  out.  He 
watched  the  drops  from  the  fountain  pattering  on  to  a  lily 
leaf,  and  as  he  watched,  he  debated.  The  very  master- 
fulness of  his  own  will  handicapped  him.  He  knew  that  he 
could  rush  Victoria,  carry  her  off  her  feet  perhaps,  and 
force  the  conclusion  he  desired,  before  she  had  time  to  help 
herself.  But  there  was  afterwards — all  the  long  years  of 
afterwards. 

Women  weigh,  as  inevitably  as  men  pursue.  That's  why 
it  is  unwise  to  treat  them  to  evasions.  They  may  look  as  if 
they  accept  them,  but  they  are  marked  down,  and  recorded 
for  ever  against  the  offender. 

It  was  some  perception  of  this,  or  perhaps  his  own  initial 
honesty,  which  made  Paul  fall  back  on  bald  statement  again. 

"  I  want  you,  my  dear,"  he  said.  "  That's  all  I  can  think 
of.  I  wanted  you  the  first  moment  I  saw  you.  Every  hour 
before  I  get  you  is  an  hour  wasted.  You  have  come  into 
my  life,  and  you  will  stop  there.  I'll  make  you  happy,  if 
anything  I  can  do  will  bring  happiness " 

He  broke  off,  threw  out  one  of  his  great  arms — "  Lord ! — 
Victoria,"  he  said,  "  and  you  think  I'm  going  to  stand  aside 
for  a  man  who  might  have  married  you  any  time  these  last 
eight  years,  and  hasn't?  " 

He  laughed  shortly. 

The  color  came  up  on  to  Victoria  Cresswell's  face.  The 
uncompromising  statement  hurt  her,  and  hurt  her  all  the 
more  for  being  true. 

No  woman,  even  if  she  isn't  in  love  with  a  man,  can  hear 
with  equanimity  that  she  is  a  negligible  quantity  to  him. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  77 

With  many  a  one,  it  would  have  served  as  a  justification  for 
taking  the  more  enticing  way,  but  Victoria  shook  her 
head. 

"  No,  Paul,"  she  said,  "  don't  put  it  that  way.  Billy  may 
be  a  casual  soul,  but  that  doesn't  affect  either  you  or  me — 
I  mean  it  doesn't  affect  what  I  should  do." 

She  began  to  smile,  and  came  a  little  nearer  to  him.  "  Let 
matters  stay  where  they  are,"  she  entreated.  "  I  shall  go 
away.    I  shall  not  see  you  again  until " 

"  Until  when?  "  thrust  in  Paul. 

"  Until  Billy  has  got  something  to  do,"  the  girl  answered. 
"  Wait  until  he  is  busy,  and  happy  in  his  own  way.  You 
know  how  his  wanderings  absorb  him.  When  his  mind  is 
occupied — and  his  life  is  full  of  interest — then  I  can  ask 
him  to  release  me." 

Paul  smiled  very  grimly. 

"  Then  my  happiness,"  he  remarked,  "  is  contingent  on 
Billy  finding  a  congenial  job?  " 

Victoria  was  not  daunted.  A  big  man  hardly  terrifies  a 
woman — a  little  one  sometimes  does. 

"  How  good  you  are,"  she  murmured,  with  a  typically 
feminine  taking  and  leaving.  "  It's  just  like  you  to  under- 
stand. We'll  settle  it  so.  Things  go  on  as  they  are,  and  I'll 
go  away.  I  can't  leave  Zouche  tonight,  everyone  would 
wonder  why  I  had  broken  up  the  party.  But  when  I  can 
get  away,  I'll  travel.  It's  time  I  did.  Why !  "  she  said,  "  I 
have  never  seen  Switzerland  and  all  those  places  everyone 
has  been  to." 

She  turned  from  the  fountain,  and  went  along  the  grass 
path  towards  the  garden  door.  "  And  now,"  she  said,  with 
that  sweet  decision  of  a  woman  who  means  to  get  her  own 
way,  "  I  think  I'll  stay  here  for  a  little." 

"  Which  means  you  want  me  to  go,"  Paul  said  quizzically. 

The  girl  looked  at  him. 

"  All  right,"  the  big  man  answered.  "  I  have  letters  to 
write.  You  have  won  this  time,  but  recollect,  it  will  be  my 
turn  next." 

Paul  Marketel  pushed  open  the  door.    He  walked  down 


78  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

the  bowling-green  and  mounted  the  steps  on  to  the  terrace — 
(it  was  his  quickest  way  to  the  Chinese  Room),  but,  once 
there,  he  pulled  up  abruptly. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  was  still  sitting  by  the  tea  table,  though 
Roger  and  Naomi  Melsham  had  disappeared,  but  with  her 
was  someone  new.  A  single  glance  showed  Paul  that  it 
was  Billy  Hirst,  or  rather,  to  give  him  his  due  title,  the 
Honorable  William  Hirst. 

As  Paul  approached,  Billy's  laugh  rang  out,  and  anything 
less  like  a  man  ruined  suddenly  can  hardly  be  imagined. 

Billy  was  one  thing  dominantly — and  that  thing  was,  an 
adventurer — in  the  Elizabethan  sense  of  the  word.  A 
fighter,  an  explorer,  a  gentleman,  he  was  born  out  of  due 
time. 

His  skin  was  bronzed  a  permanent  brown  by  many  varie- 
ties of  temperature,  an  overflowing  eagerness  quivered  in 
every  muscle.  He  was  never  really  happy  until  he  was  hot 
and  dirty,  or  cold  and  dirty,  in  one  of  the  more  inaccessible 
quarters  of  the  globe. 

"  How  did  you  get  here?  "  asked  Paul,  as  Billy  sprang  up 
with  the  information  that  it  was  ripping  to  see  him. 

"  Motor-bike !  "  Billy  explained — he  laughed  whimsically. 
"  That's  economy,  you  know,"  he  ran  on,  "  I  shall  have  to 
sell  my  motor.  The  only  wonder  is  it's  left  to  me  to  sell. 
Oh !  "  he  broke  off,  "  but  of  course  you  don't  know.  I've 
just  been  telling  Cousin  Amabelle." 

"  Yes,"  said  Lady  de  la  Haye,  but  she  looked  at  Paul — 

"  I  do  know,"  Marketel  answered. 

"  You  !  "  Billy  exclaimed. 

"  Victoria  has  just  been  telling  me." 

"  Victoria,"  Billy  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Paul  Marketel. 

Amabelle  saw  the  big  man's  face.  It  was  darkened,  vin- 
dictive even.  Billy's  misfortune,  then,  touched  him  nearly. 
But  how  ?  Suddenly  she  saw  down  the  range  of  this  pros- 
perous man's  vision.  The  money  aspect  was  as  nothing.  He 
had  seen  men  shoeless  today,  and  riding  a  thoroughbred  on 
the  morrow.    It  was  something  nearer — more  personal.    It 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  79 

was  something  that  he  could  influence — perhaps  even 
change. 

"  I  shall  have  to  sing  for  my  dinner,  before  I  eat  it,  now," 
Billy  went  on.  He  looked  into  his  cup,  and  leisurely  drank 
off  the  tea  remaining  in  it. 

"  I  say,"  he  asked,  as  he  opened  his  cigarette  case  and 
offered  it  to  Marketel,  "  is  it  true  that  you  are  going  to  send 
out  an  expedition  to  Thibet,  to  explore  that  ruby  bearing 
district?" 

"  It  is  true,"  Paul  admitted.    "  Why  do  you  ask?  " 

He  looked  at  the  eager  face,  for  even  as  he  asked  the 
question  he  knew  what  the  answer  would  be,  and  he  laughed 
with  a  note  which  made  Amabelle  shiver. 

"  What's  up  ?  "  inquired  Billy,  for  even  he  saw  that  things 
were  not  quite  normal. 

Marketel  did  not  reply  at  once :  when  he  did,  he  turned  to 
his  hostess. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  good  deal  of  the 
primitive  savage  in  us  all.  Veneer  does  nicely  enough  for 
the  undisturbed  conditions  of  life,  but  when  it  goes  down 
to  essentials,  man  is  very  much  what  he  was  when  he  lived 
in  trees,  and  bit  the  end  off  the  other  primitive  man's  tail 
because  it  hung  on  to  the  particular  bough  he'd  selected  for 
himself." 

He  pulled  up. 

"  I  didn't  know  the  Thibetan  proposition  was  public  prop- 
erty," he  said  to  Billy. 

*'  I  am  sorry  I  mentioned  it,"  Billy  answered. 

"  No !  No !  "  Marketel  returned,  "  I  might  have  known 
that  one  never  can  keep  that  kind  of  thing  to  one's  self." 

"  Then,"  said  Billy,  "  when  you  fix  your  crowd,  think  of 
me.    It's  just  my  style  of  thing." 

"  It  will  be  a  beastly  dangerous  job,"  said  Paul  roughly. 

"  What  of  that  ?  "  returned  Billy.  "  I'm  not  a  mother's 
precious  darling." 

Marketel  was  perhaps  going  to  say  something  that  would 
have  made  clear  the  grudge  in  his  mind,  and  then  a  motor 
hooted,  as  if  it  were  going  down  by  the  side  entrance. 


8o  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Who's  coming  now  ?  "  asked  Billy. 

Marketel  and  Lady  de  la  Haye  exchanged  a  glance  of 
intelligence. 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  it  must  be  Roger.  He  did  say  some- 
thing about  going  to  Chipley  Magna,  to  see  our  man  of 
business." 

"  What,  as  late  as  this  ?  "  said  Billy. 

"  Late !  "  said  Paul,  and  he  glanced  at  his  watch.  "  It's 
nearly  five,"  he  went  on,  "  and  I  must  write  my  letters." 

He  turned  and  went  towards  the  window  of  the  salon,  but, 
as  he  heard  voices  in  the  room,  he  went  along  down  the 
terrace.  If  Roger  could  return  to  the  place  of  meeting  by 
the  garden  door — so  could  he. 


CHAPTER  VII 

There  are  certain  unmistakable  milestones  on  the  way  to 
the  pays  du  tendre. 

One  of  the  most  explicit  is  the  photograph.  When  a  man 
asks  a  woman  for  her  picture,  then  you  may  know  that  it  is 
only  a  matter  of  time — and  his  feet  will  stray  over  the 
border  into  the  delectable  country. 

The  voices  that  Paul  Marketel  heard  in  the  salon  were 
those  of  Roger  and  Naomi. 

Roger  had  arrived  at  exactly  this  development.  He  had 
mentioned  the  pictures  of  the  room  merely  as  a  starting- 
point.    His  real  objective  was  the  girl  herself. 

"  I  know  you  are  ever  so  clever  with  your  camera,"  he 
said.  "  Didn't  your  mother  show  me  those  photographs  you 
took  at  Aix  ?  " 

The  words  brought  a  shadow  of  doubt,  of  hesitation,  into 
Naomi's  face.  Mrs.  Melsham  had  insisted  that  her  daugh- 
ter's accomplishments  should  go  farther  than  the  com- 
plaisant snapshot  of  the  amateur.  Proficiency  in  this  line 
was  of  a  certain  advantage  in  her  own  form  of  journalism, 
and  it  had  flashed  into  the  girl's  mind  that  if  she  took  these 
pictures,  Mrs.  Melsham,  who  scented  out  any  sort  of  gain, 
as  unerringly  as  a  pursuing  animal  scents  out  its  quarry — 
might  get  them  from  her  and  work  up  "  pars  "  about  them. 

But  Roger  was  insistent.  She  refused  the  offer  to  send  a 
servant  upstairs  for  the  camera.  Genteel  poverty  hides 
many  a  secret,  odd  or  sorry,  as  you  look  at  it,  within  a 
woman's  trunk.  Instead,  she  had  gone  herself,  and  when 
she  returned,  Roger  met  her  with  the  information  that 
Littleport  had  just  been  in  to  remind  him  that  the  car  was 
round,  waiting  to  take  him  to  Chipley  Magna. 

"  I  must  go,"  Roger  told  her,  with  genuine  vexation,  "  but 
I  shall  not  be  any  longer  than  I  can  help.    I  suppose,"  he 


82  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

said  reluctantly,  "  that  we  shall  have  to  put  off  these  photo- 
graphs until  tomorrow." 

"  Well,  does  it  matter  if  we  do?  "  she  asked. 

"  I  wanted  to  do  them  now,"  returned  Roger  impatiently. 

"  I  don't  think  anything  will  have  changed,"  the  girl 
answered  gaily — for  how  little  we  know  what  Fate  has  in 
store,  "  if  we  do  wait  twenty-four  hours." 

"Nothing?"  he  repeated  meaningly,  with  the  lover's 
facility  for  making  something  out  of  a  trifle.  The  girl 
evaded  his  glance.  She  slipped  a  little  way  down  the  room 
and  stood  before  the  table,  apparently  quite  absorbed  in 
admiring  a  row  of  Chinese  snuff  bottles  laid  out  on  it. 

In  reality,  she  was  putting  up  a  screen  between  herself  and 
her  heart's  desire.  She  wanted  time — time,  not  for  herself, 
but  for  Roger.  She  wanted  him  to  plumb  his  own  depths. 
She  wanted  him  to  be  sure,  not  from  anything  her  beauty 
might  suggest,  but  from  that  inner  necessity  which,  let  it 
be  driven  off  time  and  again,  returns  as  often  to  the  simple 
demand  "  I  want  you." 

If  Naomi  had  pushed  Roger  by  as  much  as  a  look,  let 
alone  a  word — he  would  have  passed  this  point  days  ago. 
It  was  because  of  her  own  somber  background  that  she  hurt 
herself  to  deny  him. 

If  only  chemin  de  fer  had  never  been  played  at  the 
Villa  Paul  et  Virginie,  or  she  had  cared  a  little  less ! 

When  Roger  left,  after  another  word  or  two  about  busi- 
ness which  would  admit  of  no  delay,  she  stood  silent  in  the 
big  room. 

It  was  the  drowsiest  hour  of  the  day.  The  summer  sun 
came  in  through  the  yellow  curtains  slantwise  and  hot,  so 
that  it  bathed  the  whole  room  in  a  golden  glow.  Naomi 
stood  with  her  head  down,  with  her  hands  clasped.  The 
beautiful  things  around  her  had  no  auction-room  value  for 
her,  at  this  moment  she  neither  appreciated  their  rarity  nor 
their  beauty.  They  presented  themselves  as  symbols  of  the 
one  thing  her  life  had  always  lacked— stability.  "  This  will 
never  have  to  be  sold  because  the  tradesmen  will  not  wait 
any  longer,"  she  murmured,  as  she  put  out  a  finger  and  ran 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  83 

it  round  the  rim  of  a  little  cup  in  Canton  enamel.  "  These 
stay  here  always,  no  shop  has  sent  them,  on  the  sale  or 
return  system,"  she  went  on,  counting  the  row  of  snuff 
bottles. 

She  walked  on  again.  Silk  that  a  Parisian  dressmaker 
would  have  bought — as  cheap  as  she  could — and  yet  at  two 
louis  or  more  the  yard,  was  used  for  curtains.  It  wasn't 
ostentation.  Naomi  had  the  sense  to  see  that.  It  was  the 
befitting  thing  in  the  appropriate  place.  "  How  good  it  all 
is,"  she  was  telling  herself,  " — how  peaceful — how  assured." 

An  excited  voice,  speaking  rapidly  in  the  hall,  broke  up 
her  meditations.  Naomi  lifted  her  head,  and  a  wave  of  red 
dyed  her  face  right  up  to  her  temples,  and  then,  receding, 
left  her  very  white.  There  is  a  quality  in  a  Gallic  voice 
which  is  unmistakable. 

Armand  de  Rochecorbon  had  arrived.  A  crisis  was  at 
hand — perhaps  the  crisis  that  might  change  everything.  In 
two,  three,  four  minutes,  she  would  learn  whether  she  would 
have  to  reckon  with  an  enemy — or  at  least,  a  critic — capable 
of,  and  willing  to  do  her  much  harm :  or  whether  the  same 
chivalry  that  had  been  meted  out  to  her,  when  she  was 
hardly  more  than  a  slip  of  a  girl,  was  to  be  extended  to 
her  now.  In  other  words,  had  Armand  de  Rochecorbon 
been  infinitely  kind  to  seventeen,  or  to  Naomi  Melsham  be- 
cause he  really  believed  that  she  was  innocent  of  any  par- 
ticipation in  her  mother's  ways?  Since  she  had  heard  that 
Fate — as  Fate  has  a  way  of  doing — was  about  to  cast  up 
against  her  the  one  person  she  would  prefer  not  to  see.  she 
had  been  asking  herself,  not  what  she  would  do,  but  what 
Armand  de  Rochecorbon  would  do.  The  first  glance  would 
decide  it. 

The  double  doors  opened.  She  could  not,  she  would  not 
look  round.  Armand  de  Rochecorbon  was  talking  in  his 
voluble  way  to  Littleport  about  his  car.  He  was  sure  no 
other  was  so  wonderful,  or  could  run  so  many  miles  on  the 
same  amount  of  "  essence,"  and  then,  as  he  bustled  past 
Littleport,  declaring  that  he  was  too  old  a  friend  to  need 
announcement,  there  darted  into  Naomi's  mind  the  certainty 


84  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

that  their  first  interview  would  take  place  without  witnesses 
■ — a  mercy  for  which  she  had  never  hoped. 

He  was  halfway  down  the  room  before  he  saw  her, 

"  Ah,  pardon !  "  he  began,  thinking  that  he  had  a  stranger 
before  him,  but  on  the  second  look  he  recognized  her,  her 
blue  eyes,  the  willowy  grace  of  her  figure,  and  yet  he  could 
scarcely  believe  his  own  glance. 

"  Mademoiselle  !  "  he  exclaimed.  "  Mademoiselle — Miss 
Naomi  Melsham.    It  is  Mademoiselle?  " 

"  Yes,  Monsieur,"  the  girl  answered.  "  You — you  recog- 
nize me  after  all  these  years  ?  " 

"  I  could  not  forget  you !     Impossible !     Ah  !     Si  j'etais 

litre "  the  young  man  began,  and  then  something  on  the 

face  turned  to  look  up  to  him  made  him  stop. 

"  Voyons!"  he  said  to  himself.  He  waited — he  gave  her 
back  a  look  as  searching  as  hers  had  been  pleading.  He  had 
evidently  come  on  something  unexpected — he  was  as  evi- 
dently wishful  to  take  his  bearings. 

"  Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon,"  began  the  girl,  for  the  same 
humorous  twinkle  in  the  sharp  brown  eyes  she  had  seen  in 
the  old  days,  and  a  smile,  as  kind  as  it  was  quizzical,  gave 
her  a  certain  hope,  "  this  is  my  first  visit  to  Zouche." 

"  And  mine,"  said  the  Frenchman,  "  since  I  married  my- 
self with  my  wife." 

"  Madame  has  not  accompanied  you?"  asked  the  girl. 

"  Madame,"  returned  Armand,  "  does  not  care  for  travel." 

Naomi  heard  a  certain  aloofness  in  the  quick  voice.  It 
might  mean  either  of  two  things.  Armand  de  Rochecorbon 
might  have  one  of  Mrs.  Melsham's  sayings  in  mind.  "  A 
man,"  she  was  wont  to  observe,  "  with  a  wife  by  his  side  is 
a  masculine  possibility  spoiled."  Or,  Armand's  thoughts 
might  be  turned  in  on  himself.  Naomi  knew  that  a  good 
many  things  had  happened  since  she  had  seen  him  last.  She 
had  heard  of  a  matrimonial  arrangement  of  convenience, 
rather  than  of  predilection:  she  had  a  woman's  quickness 
for  guessing  that  the  little  man  had  had  his  dream.  French- 
men so  often  take  their  dream  as  the  prelude  to  the  book, 
not  as  the  first  chapter  of  it.    She  wondered — for  when  one 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  85 

loves,  love  is  the  first  concern — if  he  was  happy  with  the 
unimaginative  woman  who  had  been  chosen  for  him. 

"  I  hope  Madame  is  well,"  was  all  she  could  think  of 
saying. 

The  Frenchman  thanked  her  suitably,  but  Naomi's  quick- 
ness made  another  point.  De  Rochecorbon  might  not  be 
enthusiastic  about  his  wife,  but  he  was  at  least  cordial,  and 
a  man  who  has  a  foundation  of  esteem  for  the  woman 
nearest  to  him  is  rarely  cynical  to  other  women.  It  is  the 
unhappily  married  man  who  says  the  whole  sex  was  made 
for  undoing.  Women  on  the  contrary  seldom  lump  men 
into  a  bunch. 

Suddenly  she  swept  aside  the  search  for  an  effective 
phrase,  for  a  single  sentence  in  which  she  could  put  her 
case  in  its  best  light. 

"  I  did  not  know  Lady  de  la  Haye  before  I  came  here," 
she  blurted  out,  "  I  had  never  seen  her  before." 

Armand  made  a  step  of  recoil.  An  Englishman  might 
have  murmured  that  he  had  forgotten  his  cigarette  case,  or 
that  he  had  not  seen  his  hostess — Armand  was  not  Gallic  for 
nothing.  There  was  a  snap  about  his  mind,  as  well  as  about 
his  speech.  Besides,  his  Latin  temperament  found  zest 
rather  than  embarrassment  in  what  is  called,  dramatically, 
a  situation. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  asked,  "  you  are  telling  me  some- 
thing?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi,  almost  breathlessly,  "  Sir  Roger — he 
is  an  old  friend  of  yours " 

"  Bien  sur,"  admitted  Armand,  "  we  were  together  shoot- 
ing the  quail  in  Pekin — but  I  have  not  seen  him  since " 

He  paused. 

"  He  has  only  just  left  me,"  broke  in  Naomi  quickly. 
"  We  were  going  to  photograph  this  room  together,"  and  she 
indicated  the  camera  she  was  twisting  nervously  in  her 
hands. 

"  Hclas!"  exclaimed  Armand,  snatching  tactfully  at  the 
change  of  subject.  "  Could  I  not  help — I  am,  with  the 
camera,  du  premiere  force." 


86  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

But  the  girl  threw  out  both  her  hands.  She  came  straight 
to  her  point.  "  Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon,"  she  began,  "  you 
remember  our  last  meeting — you  remember  the  Villa  Paul  et 
Virginie  ?  You  remember  that  my  mother  had  parties  there 
to  play  chemin  de  fer — you  remember No !  "  she  pro- 
tested, as  Armand  de  Rochecorbon  put  up  a  hand  as  if  to 
stop  her.  "  I  must  speak.  You  have  not  forgotten.  No 
man  could  forget.    I  must  ask — what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  stay  at  Zouche  with  our  good  Roger  for — 
is  it  not  three  days  ?  "  evaded  De  Rochecorbon. 

"  Please — please,"  Naomi  cried  out,  "  don't  try  to  put  me 
off.  You  were  very  kind  once  to  my  mother — to  me  too. 
Will  you  listen  to  me  now?  Did  my  mother  ever  pay  you 
back  that  money  ?  " 

"  It  was  so  long  ago." 

"  Then  she  did  not,"  concluded  the  girl. 

Her  look  was  bitter — terribly  bitter — for  so  young  a  face. 

The  little  Frenchman  gave  a  sympathetic  shrug.  "  Made- 
moiselle, I  am  foolish  perhaps,"  he  protested,  "  but  I  have 
that  fine  memory  for  forgetting." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  Naomi  faltered,  "  but  I  feel  so 
ashamed.  Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon,"  she  went  on,  "  I 
know  how  badly  you  must  think  of  my  mother,  and — and  of 
me.  Can  you  believe — I  beg  you  to  believe — I  have  no  evi- 
dence to  offer  but  my  word,  but  indeed  it  is  true — that  that 
terrible  evening  was  a  revelation.  It  was  the  first  time  I 
understood  my  mother's — difficulties." 

If  Armand  had  hestitated,  if  he  had  doubted,  he  was  con- 
quered. He  was  a  man  of  more  acumen,  of  finer  intellect 
than  either  his  manner  or  his  occupations  might  suggest.  In 
reality  what  a  Frenchman  would  call  his  "  tic  "—and  he  had 
a  fresh  one  every  two  years — first  porcelain,  then  idols,  now 
motors— was  energy  searching  for  an  outlet.  In  common 
with  so  many  men  belonging  to  the  old  families  of  France, 
his  connections,  political  and  religious,  prevented  his  partici- 
pating in  the  business  of  his  country. 

"  Ecoutez,  Mademoiselle,"  he  exclaimed,  "  have  I  not  said 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  87 

it  is  forgotten  ?    Your  mother,  she  is  well  ?  "  Armand  went 
on  quickly. 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi.  "  We  are  not  much  together  now. 
Ever  since  that  night  I  have  had  such  a  horror  of  cards, 
and " 

'^ Mais,  grand  cicl!"  retorted  Armand  stoutly;  "it  was 
only  the  word  of  Hermann  Strum,  and  who  would  believe 
him?" 

She  caught  her  breath — repressed  a  sob.  "  Many  people 
would  have  believed  his  story,"  she  retorted,  "  they  are  not 
all  as  generous  as  you,  Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon.  Think," 
she  went  on  with  an  appealing  helplessness,  "  think  if  it  were 
known  here — what  would  become  of  me  ?  " 

Armand  drew  back  a  step.  He  realized  that  in  some  way 
he  was  being  asked  for  a  pledge — a  pledge  which  could 
surely  be  counted  on  without  asking. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  protested,  "  you  give  yourself  an  un- 
happiness.    Why?" 

"  Because  you  do  not  yet  understand,  Monsieur,"  Naomi 
went  on  hastily.  "  You  were  surprised  to  meet  me  here — 
you  know  you  were  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mademoiselle  !  " 

"  Would  you  be  more  surprised  if  you  were  to  hear  that 
Roger  wished  to  marry  me  ?  " 

"Surprised?"  ejaculated  Armand,  and  indeed  the  news 
came  to  him  with  such  a  shock  that  he  covered  it  diplo- 
matically, and  proceeded  to  He  with  that  aplomb  which  the 
male  invariably  enjoys  when  the  said  lie  is  concerned  with 
the  opposite  sex.  "  Mademoiselle  is  very  beautiful,"  he 
protested,  and  then  with  a  humorous  smile  he  tacked  on  his 
inevitable,  "  Si  j'ctais  fibre " 

Naomi  interrupted  his  flow  of  evasions.  "  Oh,  please. 
Monsieur  de  Rochecorbon,  I  am  serious.  I  tried  to  take 
life  as  it  came — but  I  reckoned  without  my  heart."  She 
gave  a  little  bitter  laugh.  "  And  in  every  woman's  life  there 
comes  a  point  where  her  heart  comes  in  and  wrecks  the  best 
calculated  schemes." 


88  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Armand  instantly  became  grave.  The  appeal  in  the  girl's 
voice  touched  him. 

"En fin!"  he  answered  quickly,  "and  the  schemes  of 
Mademoiselle  that  Cupid  has  wrecked  ?  " 

Naomi's  head  was  bowed.  She  turned  a  little  away — 
then  the  truth  shot  out  bald  and  uncompromising.  It  came 
in  jerking  words — just  the  plain  unadorned  statement. 

"  I  hoped  to  marry  Roger  de  la  Haye,  not  because  it 
would  be  better  to  live  in  this  beautiful  house  than  in  second- 
class  lodgings,  not  because  it  is  more  to  one's  credit  to  be 
the  wife  of  a  baronet  than  the  daughter  of  a  mother 
who "  She  struggled  with  her  emotion,  which  over- 
powered her  for  the  moment. 

Armand  came  to  her  side — "  C'est  assez.  Mademoiselle," 
he  urged,  "  c'est  assez." 

With  a  great  eflfort  the  girl  went  on — "  I  hope  to  marry 
him  because  I  love  him — because  I'm  another  and  a  better 
woman  when  I'm  with  him." 

Armand  saw  that  he  must  let  her  have  her  way — that 
something  vital  was  to  come.  "  And  you  tell  me  this.  Made- 
moiselle— why  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Because  you  know  the  life  we  lived  at  Nice  when  you 
met  us.  I  wasn't  to  blame — I  didn't  understand,"  cried 
Naomi,  her  voice  rising  to  a  clamor.  "  I  was  so  young  then 
— I  didn't  realize — until  that  dreadful  Strum  turned  round 
on  my  mother  and  accused  her — believe  me  I  didn't  realize 
it.  But  you  know  what  people  said  about  mama — perhaps 
about  me  too.  If — if  you  were  asked — could  you  forget 
that?" 

For  one  moment  the  fear  of  being  drawn  into  collusion 
with  a  scheming  woman  made  Armand  hesitate ;  this  might 
be  but  an  elaborately  arranged  trap.  Then,  as  he  hesitated, 
Naomi  raised  her  eyes — they  were  blue, — so  were  those  of 
his  little  son, — they  were  limpid, — so  were  those  of  Mon- 
sieur Bebe.  The  chance  resemblance  not  only  softened 
Armand's  whole  being,  it  endowed  him  with  a  sudden  far- 
reaching  vision. 

This  beautiful  woman  was  imploring  him  to  give  her  a 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  89 

chance,  not  that  she  might  attain  to  worldly  advantage,  but 
that  she  might  reach  up  to  a  finer  mental  atmosphere. 

As  soon  as  he  was  sure  of  that — and  Armand  de  Roche- 
corbon  was  swift  to  make  a  decision — he  took  an  impulsive 
step  nearer. 

"  Mademoiselle,"  he  went  on  quickly,  "  I  have  not  told 
you  yet.  I  have  a  little  son.  It  is  three  years  since  I  marry 
myself  with  my  wife,  and  last  year  Monsieur  Bebe  he  make 
his  appearance,  and  papa — when  papa  has  been  tres  sage — 
veri  good — and  mama  is  content  with  him,  papa  wheels  the 
perambulator — so,"  and  the  little  man  made  a  gesture  to 
match.  "And  ze  Engleesh  Miss,"  he  went  on,  "ma  foi! — 
so  severe,  so  hygienic,  she  permit  me  sometimes,  this  foolish 
papa,  to  hold  the  sunshade  over  ze  tout  petit  bald  head  so 
pink  and  so  tender " 

Naomi  looked  up  at  him  in  wonder.  "  I  don't  quite  under- 
stand," she  said  very  softly. 

"  Ecoutez,"  went  on  Armand  gently,  "  a  man  with  so 
sweet  an  interior  himself — how  can  he  be  hard  on  those 
who  are  without?  " 

There  was  an  instant's  pause.  The  girl's  look  was  elo- 
quent— for  that  one  moment  she  realized  all  that  the  little 
Frenchman  implied.  Not  only  pity,  not  only  a  desire  to 
help,  but  that  far  greater  thing — confidence  in  her — confi- 
dence that,  given  her  chance,  she  would  take  the  gold  and 
reject  the  dross.  But  as  this  certainty  came  to  her,  words 
failed  her,  her  attempt  to  speak  ended  in  a  gasping  sob 
and  she  had  to  turn  away. 

"  Calmez  vous.  Mademoiselle,"  Armand  repeated,  as  he 
followed  her,  "  calmez  vous.  That  papa  he  has  so  much  in 
his  mind  that  he  can  forget,  how  do  you  say  it — altogether. 
And  chatterbox  as  he  is,  there  are  some  things  his  lips  will 
refuse  ever  to  say." 

Naomi  heard  the  promise  of  silence.  The  tears  came  into 
her  eyes.  Her  heart  was  beating.  It  seemed  to  her  that  the 
wheel  of  Destiny  had  begun  to  spin  in  a  new  direction.  Until 
Roger  came  into  her  life,  both  people  and  events  had  con- 
spired to  drag  her  down,  now  they  seemed  to  be  helping  to 


go  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

fortify  her,  to  strengthen  her.  She  bent  her  head,  her  being 
filled  with  gratitude. 

Armand  was  as  silent  as  she  was,  but  he  was  wondering 
if  he  dare  risk  a  word  of  advice. 

"  You  permit  one  tout  petit  mot  ?  "  he  queried  gently. 

The  girl  nodded. 

"Roger — he  know  nothing?"  inquired  Armand. 

"How  could  he?"  Naomi  replied,  "he  has  been  seven 
years  away  from  Europe — we  have  known  each  other  less 
than  a  month." 

"  Then  tell  him — everything,"  urged  Armand. 

"  Everything?  "  gasped  Naomi,  "  that  is  impossible.  You 
know  Roger.  He  is  an  idealist — he  has  a  fixed  standard. 
He  thinks  a  woman  can't  go  beyond  a  certain  point — can't 
touch  life  at  its  seamy  edge,  and  yet  be  the  woman  he  loves. 
He  loves  me  now  as  he  thinks  I  am — I  love  him  just  as  he 
is — whatever  he  may  be,  and  so  I  must  wait  until — until  it  is 
me  he  loves — the  real  me.  Just  Naomi,  no  matter  what  she 
is,  no  matter  what  she  may  have  been." 

Armand  looked  at  her  dubiously.    "  And  then " 

"  Then,  I'll  tell  him  everything  and  he  will  understand. 
Do  you  think  I  shan't  long  for  that  day?  Do  you  think  I 
shan't  hasten  it  ?  Love  isn't  love  until  it  understands  as 
well  as  forgives " 

Armand  nodded  his  head.  "  Alors !  C'est  fini !  "  he 
muttered.  And  then  in  a  lighter  tone,  "  Voyons!  Let  us 
now  to  the  photographs.    Hein!" 

He  took  up  the  camera  again,  but  Naomi  stopped  him  with 
a  little  gesture  of  dismay.  She  had  no  mind  that  her  engage- 
ment with  Roger  should  be  carried  through  by  any 
proxy. 

"  Oh,  not  now,"  she  protested,  "  besides,"  she  added  with 
an  uncertain  laugh  as  she  saw  the  little  man  already  moving 
over  towards  the  fireplace,  "  you  cannot  start  there,  you 
know,  you  are  in  the  wrong  light." 

Armand  de  Rochecorbon  protested,  and  he  bowed  with  a 
flourish — "  Mademoiselle,  a  man  is  always  in  the  wrong  light 
when  a  pretty  woman  puts  him  there." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  91 

Naomi  started.  The  Frenchman's  happy  jeu  d'esprit  was 
too  apropos  to  the  subject  they  had  just  left. 

"  Don't  we  all,  sometimes,  get  into  the  wrong  light,  Mon- 
sieur de  Rochecorbon  ?  "  she  said  wryly.  But  this  time  the 
Frenchman  refused  to  follow  her. 

"De  light!  Bah!  It  is  but  a  bagatelle,"  he  retorted 
gaily,  "  it  depends  always  on  how  you  make  your  blinds." 
With  a  sweeping  gesture  he  took  in  the  windows  of  the 
room,  but  pulled  round  sharply  as  his  eye  caught  the  window 
over  the  fireplace.  "Tcnes!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  is 
going  on  there  ?  " 

Naomi  followed  his  glance. 

From  the  inner  room,  across  the  glass  of  the  closed 
window,  a  man's  hand  and  arm  were  distinctly  to  be  seen 
drawing  together  the  curtains  that  would  shut  in  the  Chinese 
Room.  The  rough  gray  Harris  tweed  was  unmistakably  the 
sleeve  of  Paul  Marketel's  coat,  but  even  as  he  pulled  to 
the  blinds,  Naomi  caught  a  glimpse  of  another  hand,  long, 
lean  and  yellow,  which  drew  the  curtains  together  at  the 
bottom  in  a  claw-like  grasp. 

"  Sapristi! "  exclaimed  Armand  excitedly,  "  there  is  some- 
one in  the  Chinese  Room,  then?  Dites-moi!  Who  can  it 
be  ?  "  for  like  every  habitue  at  Zouche,  he  knew  the  history 
of  the  room  and  the  significance  of  the  meetings  there. 
"  Is  it  ce  cher  Roger,  and  whom  has  he  for  bon  camarade?  " 

"  No,"  said  Naomi  impulsively,  "  Roger  has  gone  to  Chip- 
ley  Magna — I  told  you — he  will  be  back  directly.  Wasn't 
that  Mr.  Marketel — and  his  Excellency?" 

"del!"  ejaculated  the  little  man,  now  on  tiptoe  with 
excitement,  for  a  habit  of  diplomatic  observation  once 
acquired  sticks  to  one  all  one's  life — that's  why  the  career 
holds  a  place  apart  for  seventy  odd — "  Old  Chi  Lung  and 
Marketel — together — in  the  Chinese  Room  ?  Oh  !  La,  la, 
la !    Quelle  affaire  !  " 

Naomi  could  not  help  smiling  at  him.  "  An  affaire — 
here  ?  "  she  laughed. 

The  little  Frenchman  nodded  emphatically — "  But  yes — 
Zouche  is  old  ground  for  affaires  diplomatiques.     In  the 


92  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

days  of  Sir  Arthur  I  have  known  in  that  room "  he 

broke  off  sharply  as  a  sudden  illumination  burst  on  him. 
Arraand  had  never  been  within  the  inner  ring  of  diplomacy. 
France's  fatal  habit  of  thrusting  out  her  best-born,  because 
they  are  her  best-born,  had  prevented  that  also,  but  his 
interest  in  national  affairs  was  none  the  less  as  keen  as  any 
outsider's  could  be.  Therefore  he  had  heard  whispers — 
just  that  hint  dropped  by  one  expert  to  another — that  China 
was  making  one  of  her  periodical  turns  in  her  sleep — it 
required  but  Naomi's  chance  words  to  show  him  which  way 
the  Celestial  eyes  were  blinking. 

"  Voyons! "  he  continued,  "  Chi  Lung  and  Paul  Marketel ! 
It  is  not  for  nothing  they  meet  here !  Is  it  possible  that  we 
are — how  do  you  say  it — in  the  pie?  The  lion  and  the 
lamb,"  he  ran  on,  mixing  up  his  metaphors  in  his  eagerness, 
"  they  do  not  lie  down  together  for  soft  sleeping.  Tiens! 
If  I  could  only  have  ears  long  enough  to  hear  what  they 
are  saying  now." 

"Would  it  be  so  very  interesting?"  the  girl  smiled. 

"  All  that  is  of  the  most  interesting,"  declared  the  French- 
man. He  came  closer,  and  in  his  excitement  ran  both  his 
hands  through  his  hair,  cropped  a  la  hrosse,  until  it  stood 
up  like  a  thatch  of  stiff  bristles.  "  Ecoutez,  Mademoiselle," 
he  went  on,  "  even  now  in  there,  perhaps — the  East  and  the 
West,  il  s'arrangent.    It  is  an  intrigue !  " 

Naomi  drew  back — "  I  am  tired  of  intrigues,"  she  said 
passionately, — "  I  wish  there  were  no  such  things  as  mys- 
teries and  concealments  in  the  whole  world." 

"  But,  dear  lady,"  Armand  retorted,  "  what  would  the 
poor  diplomats  do  then  ?  "  He  waved  an  approving  hand 
towards  the  Chinese  Room.  "Allans!  Let  them  talk!  "  he 
ran  on,  "  Mille  blessings  on  them !  As  often  as  the  Chinese 
and  the  British  agree — the  German  goes  to  the  wall.  Alles 
toujours,"  he  muttered  fiercely,  "  be  first  in  the  field  for  once 
if  you  can,"  and  then,  as  he  saw  Naomi  staring  at  him  he 
turned  with  a  laugh  again.  "  But  come  now — to  the  photo- 
graphs !  "  he  said,  and  he  took  up  the  camera  again. 

"  En  fin! — but  it  is  small — will  it  make  good  pictures?" 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  93 

he  inquired,  as  he  moved  across  to  the  specimen  table  and 
took  up  a  vase  of  priceless  Canton  enamel,  with  a  repre- 
sentation of  a  mandarin  and  his  suite,  exquisite  in  design 
and  execution,  upon  it. 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Naomi  quickly,  and  she  little  thought  the 
deep  significance  her  careless  words  were  to  have  later. 
"  These  No.  3  Kodaks  are  so  good  that  even  those  little 
mountains  on  that  enamel  will  come  out  quite  distinctly." 
Then  she  turned  sharply  to  find  that  Littleport  was  waiting 
by  her  side. 

The  old  man  was  carrying  a  large  round  silver  tray,  and 
on  it  were  arranged  piles  of  letters.  Lady  de  la  Haye's 
were  always  placed  above  Sir  Arthur's  name  (for  it  was 
a  presentation  piece  of  plate), — Roger's  at  the  foot,  those 
for  the  guests  in  order  of  precedence.  Not  for  v/orlds 
would  the  old  man  have  varied  the  details  of  the  ceremony. 

He  had  already  pointed  out  her  single  envelope  to  Naomi 
and  now  he  edged  Armand's  correspondence  to  him  and  was 
just  leaving  the  room  when  a  wedge  of  sunlight  darted  into 
his  eyes.  Now  sunlight,  in  relation  to  upholstery,  was  an 
enemy  against  whom  Littleport  waged  a  ceaseless  war,  so 
he  turned  back  abruptly  and  proceeded  carefully  and  pre- 
cisely to  draw  to  the  yellow  silk  curtains. 

"  You  will  excuse  me,  M'am,"  he  said,  "  but  the  sun  does 
fade  our  carpets  so." 

"  Vous  permettez  ?  "  began  the  Frenchman,  after  he  had 
looked  up  to  smile  at  Littleport's  precaution,  and  he  tore 
open  an  envelope  directed  in  that  spidery  hand  of  the  con- 
vent-educated Frenchwoman. 

He  glanced  down  the  lines  of  clcise  pale  writing  and  then 
he  flung  up  his  head,  his  face  working  with  excitement. 

"  Ze  bebe !  "  he  cried  out,  "  ze  excellent  bebe — 'e  have  a 
tooth.  Ah !  le  brave  bon  homme !  I  must  send  a  depeche 
— a  telegram.  Ze  congratulations  of  papa!  Littleport! 
Littleport !    Mon  vieux  I    A  telegram  !  " 

He  rushed  out  of  the  room,  looking  over  his  shoulder  at 
Littleport  following  on,  and  repeated  his  demand  for  a 
telegraph  form. 


94  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Naomi  looked  after  him.  Perhaps  once  this  effusiveness 
would  have  amused  her — now  it  touched  her. 

"  You  see,"  she  told  herself,  "  he  cares  too,  now  that  he 
has  someone  to  open  out  his  heart." 

It  was  a  moment  before  she  went  back  to  her  own  letter. 
She  had  left  it  lying  on  the  table  and  now  she  frowned  on 
it  distastefully.  She  knew  the  writing,  as  exaggerated  as  the 
unduly  large  cover. 

She  tore  open  the  envelope.  It  was  what  she  expected — a 
bill  from  the  dressmaker. 

To  account  rendered £97  -  11  -  2  she  read — 

Lavender  Lawn  Dress  ....        11-11-0 
Hat  to  match 5-15-6 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Naomi  Melsham  stood  with  Madame  Emilie's  bill  in  her 
hand,  and  the  further  she  read  the  more  aghast  she  became. 
Mrs.  Melsham  was  a  past  master  in  turning  the  screw  at 
the  appropriate  moment,  so  Naomi  instantly  suspected  that 
the  bill  had  followed  her  to  Zouche  by  her  mother's  orders, 
but  that  was  not  all.  Her  three  new  dresses  were  each  put 
down  at  far  more  than  she  had  been  led  to  believe.  As 
for  the  account  rendered — that  was  for  Mrs.  Melsham's  own 
dresses,  and  was  supposed  to  have  been  liquidated  by  an 
article  in  a  fashion  paper,  but  Naomi  knew,  since  the  whole 
bill  had  come  to  her,  that  sooner  or  later  she  would  have 
to  pay  it.     But  how? 

She  began  to  breathe  hard.  It  was  as  if  she  had  been 
climbing  up  to  Heaven,  and  had  been  ruthlessly  pulled  back 
to  Earth. 

"  Good  resolutions,"  she  whispered  bitterly,  "  remove 
none  of  the  difficulties  of  the  straight  path." 

This  beginning  on  other  lines,  which  had  seemed  possible, 
easy  even,  an  hour  ago,  a  case  of  good  will  and  pure  inten- 
tions, was  not  to  be,  merely  because,  honestly,  sincerely,  she 
wished  it.  The  past  is  the  octopus  of  human  experience, 
and  where  it  does  not  strangle,  it  is  always  capable  of  drag- 
ging under. 

For  the  first  time,  that  hardest  question  that  a  woman  can 
ask  herself  clamored  for  an  answer. 

"  Would  it  be  the  surest  proof  of  her  love  for  Roger  to 
leave  him?  " 

The  question  with  all  it  implied  was  still  in  her  mind, 
when  the  double  doors  opened  with  the  flourish  that  Naomi 
had  already  learned  to  connect  with  Littleport's  announce- 
ment of  a  guest. 

95 


96  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

The  girl  heard  the  beginning  of  a  name;  she  sprang  to 
her  feet,  her  whole  being  tingling  with  consternation. 

"  Mrs.  Melsham  to  see  Miss  Melsham,"  announced 
Littleport. 

"  Mama,"  breathed  Naomi. 

The  mother  and  daughter  waited,  one  looking  hard  at  the 
other,  until  they  were  alone.    Naomi  spoke  first. 

"  Mama,  what  have  you  come  for?    Why  are  you  here? " 

She  looked  fearfully  at  the  faultlessly  dressed  woman.  It 
was  often  possible  to  gauge  Mrs.  Melsham's  frame  of  mind 
by  her  attire — more  especially  by  the  supply  of  carmine  on 
her  cheeks.  Mrs.  Melsham  had  evidently  come  in  a  discreet 
mood,  for  the  coloring  was  so  skilfully  applied  that  it  was 
all  but  possible  to  put  it  down  to  the  careful  preservation 
of  a  good  complexion.  Her  manner,  too  (for  Naomi's 
mother  could  be  indefinably  light  at  times),  bore  out  the 
same  note. 

"  My  love,"  she  began,  and  she  never  prefaced  her  speech 
with  an  endearment  unless  there  was  something  to  be  gained 
by  it,  "  you  don't  seem  pleased  to  see  me." 

Mechanically  Naomi  pulled  up  a  chair.  Mrs.  Melsham 
took  it,  she  looked  at  the  tip  of  her  neat  suede  shoe  with 
a  downcast  air,  and  hoped,  if  she  gave  Naomi  time,  the  girl 
would  think  she  had  been  unfeeling. 

Exactly  that  thought  came  into  the  girl's  mind. 

"  Forgive  me,"  she  said  penitently,  "  I  didn't  expect  you. 
I  was  afraid " 

"Of  what?"  asked  Mrs.  Melsham. 

"  You  see,"  said  Naomi,  "  everything  is  so  different 
here." 

"  You  don't  think  I  should  fit  in,"  mocked  her  mother. 

"  Things  are  so  different  here,"  answered  Naomi,  falling 
back  on  a  lame  repetition. 

Mrs.  Melsham  looked  up  with  a  cold  smile.  She  realized 
that  Naomi  was  possessed  with  what  she  called  one  of  her 
"  goody-goody  "  fits,  and  for  such  a  mood  she  had  no  tolera- 
tion at  all. 

"  I  never  knew  a  girl  in  love,  who  didn't  compare  her 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  97 

*  future's '  family,  to  the  disadvantage  of  her  own,"  she 
observed.  "  After  she  is  married,  she  generally  learns  that 
she  has  found  a  number  of  new  relations  who  either  snub 
her  for  not  being  as  smart  as  themselves  or  detest  her  for 
being  smarter." 

After  that  trenchant  epitome,  she  sat  up  straight  and  in- 
quired, with  her  most  business-like  air,  if  Naomi  had  any 
interesting  news  for  her. 

"  No,"  returned  the  girl  shortly. 

"  I  suppose  Roger  de  la  Haye  is  in  love  with  you,"  Mrs. 
Melsham  went  on. 

The  girl  colored  a  furious  red. 

"  You  stood  the  test  of  the  home  environment  all  right," 
the  cold  voice  continued. 

Naomi  threw  out  her  hands.  Not  a  week  ago  she  would 
have  played  off  contempt  against  cynicism,  and  a  battle  of 
furious  words  would  have  ensued.  Now  she  seemed  as  if 
she  would  push  the  stinging  comments  from  her. 

"  Don't,  Mama,"  she  protested.  "  Don't  say  bitter  things. 
I  have  learned  such  a  lot  since  I  came  here.  Let's  begin 
again,  you  and  I — we  are  always  saying  horrid  things  to 
each  other " 

Mrs.  Melsham  laughed  harshly. 

"Do  you  want  to  reform  me?"  she  asked.  "My  good 
child,  you  are  making  yourself  ridiculous.  I'm  old  enough 
to  prefer  caviare  to  ice  pudding." 

She  rose,  and  frankly  began  to  appraise  the  room:  she 
observed  that  there  were  several  things,  to  her  mind,  requir- 
ing modification. 

"  Keep  your  boudoir  in  your  own  hands,"  she  suggested, 
"  don't  take  it  as  a  legacy,  and  insist  from  the  first  that  it 
has  a  key  to  its  lock.  Above  all,  strike  your  own  note.  If 
I  were  you,  I'd  go  in  for  yellows,  just  because  everyone 
will  expect  purples  from  your  hair  and  skin." 

Naomi  broke  in  on  this  pertinent  advice  with  a  sharp 
question. 

"  How  did  you  get  here  ?  Where  did  you  come  from  ?  " 
she  asked. 


98  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  The  Tippley-Sirjths  have  taken  a  house  at  Coboldisham, 
only  fifteen  miles  from  here." 

"  Lady  de  la  Haye  has  not  called  upon  them." 

Mrs.  Melsham  did  not  answer  immediately.  During  the 
last  two  or  three  sentences,  she  had  been  wandering  down 
the  room,  fingering  the  curios,  now  she  pulled  up  before  the 
little  table  and  paused  to  examine  the  row  of  Chinese  scent 
bottles  upon  it. 

"  Three,  four,  five — a  whole  dozen — no,  thirteen !  "  she 
counted  aloud.  "  How  absurd !  And  how  vmlucky  !  What 
does  one  want  with  thirteen  Chinese  scent  bottles  ?  " 

"  I  know,"  she  remarked  in  another  tone,  taking  up  the 
conversation  over  her  shoulder,  while  she  picked  up  a  tiny 
flat  bottle,  with  a  heavy  inlay  of  gold — "  I  had  rather  a 
difficulty  in  reminding  Ada  Tippley-Smith  that  she  couldn't 
make  the  first  advance.  I  meant  to  come  alone,  and  here 
I  am." 

She  opened  the  black  vanity  bag,  which  hung  by  a  large 
ring  over  her  wrist,  and  took  out  her  handkerchief. 

Naomi  looked  up.  There  was  an  instant  while  a  great 
horror  kept  the  girl  still,  and  then  she  sprang  to  her  mother's 
side. 

"  Every  item  of  this  collection  is  catalogued  and  known 
to  collectors  all  over  the  world.  Not  even  the  little  dealers 
in  the  Quai  Montmorency  would  buy  a  single  thing,  for  they 
couldn't  sell  it  again  without  being  accused  of  theft,"  she 
exclaimed  breathlessly. 

Mrs,  Melsham  deliberately  replaced  the  scent  bottle  in 
the  middle  of  the  long  row. 

"  Isn't  that  rather  conceited  of  the  De  la  Hayes  ?  "  she 
remarked — "making  such  a  fuss,  as  if  no  one  else  collected 
chinoiseric.  I  don't  know  that  I  admire  Oriental  art  my- 
self." 

The  mother  and  daughter  faced  each  other.  Once  again 
Mrs.  Melsham's  airy  disregard  for  the  accepted  honesties 
of  existence  baffled  Naomi. 

"  What  have  you  come  for,  Mama  ? "  she  demanded 
insistently. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  99 

"  Partly  to  see  if  you  have  been  making  good  use  of  your 
time." 

"  Mama,"  cried  out  Naomi,  and  then  she  added  passion- 
ately, "  I  believe  you  would  vulgarize  a  sunset." 

"  Is  that  quite — dear  daughterly?"  asked  Mrs.  Melsham. 
"  I  understood  that  you  were  taken  with  that — disease,  when 
I  came  in." 

Naomi  made  a  gesture  of  despair. 

"  I  did  mean  to  be  nice.  You  wouldn't  let  me,"  she  ex- 
claimed. 

"Well,"  returned  the  mother,  "if  you  set  such  store  by 
the  '  mother's  prop  '  attitude,  I  can  give  you  a  chance  of 
putting  your  protestations  into  practice." 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Naomi. 

"  You  are  so  taken  up  with  your  own  affairs,"  the  well- 
preserved  woman  began,  "  of  course  I  know  there  is  nothing 
so  self-centered  as  a  girl  in  the  '  will  he?  won't  he?  '  stage, 
but  I  may  remind  you  that  I  can  have  my  troubles,  as  well 
as  you." 

"  Have  you  been  losing  too  much  money  at  cards  ? " 
gasped  Naomi. 

"  Staying  with  Ada  Tippley-Smith,"  retorted  Mrs.  Mel- 
sham. "  My  dear,  our  good  Ada  regrets  that  the  smart  set 
set  such  a  bad  example  to  their  servants.  She  hopes  to 
show  that  hothouse  melons  for  dinner,  and  two  foot- 
men and  a  hall  boy,  can  go  with  a  non-conformist  con- 
science." 

"  Then  what  has  happened?  "  demanded  the  girl. 

Mrs.  Melsham  selected  a  comfortable  chair,  and  settled 
herself  carefully.  A  soft  cushion  always  acted  as  cocaine 
on  her  conscience,  just  as  a  lobster  supper  made  her  oblivi- 
ous of  the  man  who  paid  for  it. 

"  I  was  right,"  she  observed,  "  Hermann  Strum  is  in 
London." 

"  Mama,"  gasped  Naomi.  She  looked  at  her  mother  as 
if  she  hoped  even  now  that  she  had  not  heard  aright. 

"  Hermann  Strum !  "  she  repeated,  and  there  was  still  a 
question  in  her  voice,  "  you  were  sure  he  was  dead." 


loo  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Do  people  who  know  too  much  about  one  ever  die  ?  " 
Mrs.  Melsham  inquired. 

Naomi  nodded  dumbly.  She  was  coming  to  the  value  of 
the  announcement  slowly,  but  she  would  get  to  it  in  time 
— and  get  to  it  all  the  more  certainly  for  not  being  hurried. 
Suddenly  the  girl's  arms  fell  to  her  sides. 

"  How  do  you  know?  "  she  whispered. 

"  He  called  on  me  yesterday,"  Mrs.  Melsham  explained. 
"  Half  an  hour  later  and  I  should  have  started  for  the 
station  and  missed  him." 

"  What  has  he  come  for  ?  What  did  he  want  ?  "  cried  out 
Naomi. 

"  The  truth  is,"  answered  Mrs.  Melsham,  "  that  he  hasn't 
forgotten  my  little  accident  at  chemin  dc  fcr." 

"  Accident,"  echoed  Naomi  passionately. 

"  Well,"  answered  Mrs.  Melsham,  quite  unreproved,  "  I 
shall  always  say  that  if  I  had  been  allowed  to  explain  in  my 
own  way " 

"  One  can't  explain  five  aces,"  Naomi  flung  back. 

Mrs.  Melsham  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  I  made  the  mistake  of  thinking  I  was  playing  with 
gentlemen,"  she  remarked  with  an  injured  air. 

Naomi  had  no  answer.  It  never  was  any  good  to  argue 
with  Mrs.  Melsham,  but  it  was  not  the  futility  only  that  was 
keeping  her  silent.  The  scene  was  so  indelibly  impressed  on 
her  consciousness,  that  as  often  as  she  thought  of  it,  every 
detail  rose  up  as  freshly  before  her  as  on  the  day  of  its 
happening.  She  saw  the  little  room  in  the  tiny  Villa,  all 
the  tawdry  furnishings  of  the  " appartement  garni":  the 
table  covered  with  a  green  cloth,  the  shoe,  the  tiny  rake,  the 
little  heaps  of  money :  and  she  saw,  too,  not  only  her  mother, 
as  beautifully  dressed  as  usual,  not  only  Armand  de  Roche- 
corbon,  so  many  years  younger,  nor  only  herself,  a  slip  of 
a  girl,  bewildered  and  timid,  but  a  big  loose-limbed  man 
with  large  hands,  and  with  what  struck  her  particularly, 
mounds  of  soft  flesh,  with  long  hairs  sticking  out  of  them, 
between  each  knuckle.  This  individual  had  pendulous 
cheeks,  which  hung  down  in  flaps  as  he  leaned  over  the 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  loi 

table  and  first  gesticulated  insolently  at  her  mother,  and 
then,  as  he  turned  on  her,  Naomi  herself.  The  thick-lipped 
mouth  leered  with  a  look  so  evil  that  the  child  died  in  Naomi 
Melsham,  and  out  of  very  fear — that  instinctive  fear  of  a 
male  at  his  most  predatory — the  woman  was  born. 

"  You  cheated  at  cards.  Mama,"  Naomi  went  on.  "  Her- 
mann Strum  found  you  out.  He  threatened  to  expose  you, 
and  Armand  de  Rochecorbon  took  pity  on  us.  He  bought 
off  Strum,  and  now,"  the  girl  ended  with  a  wail,  "  Strum  has 
come  back  again." 

*'  Obviously,"  answered  Mrs.  Melsham  with  a  shrug.  She 
heard  this  recapitulation  of  damning  facts  without  so  much 
as  a  change  of  color.  She  neither  denied  nor  evaded — she 
merely  passed  on  to  something  else. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  asked,  "  who  is  staying  here  now  ?  " 

Naomi  looked  quickly  round. 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  know  ?  " 

"  Strum  has  gone  into  journalism,"  Mrs.  Melsham  ex- 
plained. "  It  seems  he  is  starting  a  new  paper — Versions  and 
Animadversions  I  think  it  is  to  be  called :  inconveniently 
apropos,  don't  you  think?  But  then,  Strum  never  had  any 
sense  of  humor." 

"That  man!  Editing  a  newspaper?"  Naomi  ex- 
claimed. 

"  Why  not  ?  "  demanded  her  mother.  "  I'm  sure  he's 
smart  enough.  He  has  offered  me  two  hundred  a  year  to 
collect  society  news  for  him." 

"  And  you'll  take  money  from — him?  "  the  girl  demanded 
breathlessly. 

Mrs.  Melsham  smiled  finely. 

"  Not  money,  my  dear,"  she  corrected.  "  It's  a  fee,  or  is 
it  an  honorarium? — besides,  it's  hardly  thought  declasse 
nowadays  to  be  earning  one's  living." 

Naomi  let  her  hands  fall  to  her  sides  with  a  hopeless 
gesture. 

Mrs.  Melsham  rose.  She  came  up  to  her  daughter  and 
slid  her  hand  under  the  girl's  arm. 

"  Listen,   dear,"   she  murmured,   using  what   she   rarely 


I02  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

did  to  her  own  child — her  most  insinuating  voice — "  I  am 
really  in  a  fix  this  time." 

"  You !  "  the  girl  gasped. 

Mrs.  Melsham  nodded.  She  opened  her  bag  again  and 
dabbed  her  nose  carefully  with  her  powder  puff. 

"  I  didn't  want  to  spoil  your  pretty  illusions  about  the 
World  well  lost  for  Love,  but — we  are  at  the  far  end," 
summed  up  Mrs.  Melsham.    '*  Besides " 

"  Besides "     chimed     in      Naomi     bitterly.        "  Ah, 

you  are  only  trading  on  our  difficulties  to  frighten  me. 
What  do  you  want?  It  must  be  something  you  know 
I  should  hate  to  do,  or  you  wouldn't  play  the  poverty 
card." 

"  You  didn't  like  that  time  we  had  to  leave  Marienbad  in 
the  middle  of  the  night,  without  our  boxes,  any  more  than 
I  did,"  Mrs.  Melsham  reminded  her. 

Naomi  shrank  in  upon  herself. 

"  Well,  then,"  pursued  Mrs.  Melsham,  as  she  noted  the 
movement,  "  help  me  to  prevent  a  similar  thing  happening 
in  London." 

"How?" 

"  Tell  me,  for  one  thing,  w^ho  is  here  now." 

"  No  one  who  would  interest  Strum,"  Naomi  retorted. 
"  Besides  all  the  names  are  in  the  AT o ruing  Post:  he  can 
read  them  there  for  himself." 

"All?"  asked  Mrs.  Melsham,  insistently. 

"  All,"  answered  Naomi — "  Oh, — excepting  Mr.  Marketel. 
He  happened  to  turn  up  unexpectedly." 

Mrs.  Melsham  clicked  her  teeth  sharply  together. 

"  Paul  Marketel,"  she  exclaimed.  "  Strum  was  sure 
of  it." 

"Of  what?" 

"  That  Paul  Marketel  would  be  here.  My  dear,"  she  went 
on  triumphantly,  "  Paul  Marketel's  arrival  is  no  chance,  it's 
part  of  a  prearranged  plan.  Strum  was  sure  of  it — it's 
wonderful  how  he  gets  his  information." 

"  I  don't  understand,"  Naomi  muttered  lamely. 

"  My  dear,"  Mrs.  Melsham  continued,  "  Strum  says  that 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  103 

there  is  a  project  for  a  new  loan  to  China — and  that 
Marketel  is  offering  to  find  the  money." 

"  Why  should  there  be  anything  secret  about  that  ? " 
Naomi  asked. 

"  Ah !  "  said  Mrs.  Melsham,  "  you  have  a  lot  to  learn  yet, 
my  dear.  Germany  wants  a  finger  in  this  loan.  It  would 
help  that  peaceful  penetration  she's  such  a  great  hand  at — 
in  the  East,  but,  of  course,  if  Marketel  brings  it  off,  he's 
English,  and  his  interests  will  be  all  British." 

"  Then,"  asked  the  girl,  "  why  does  not  Germany  just 
protest  and  be  done  with  it?  " 

"  That's  the  key  to  the  whole  business,"  Mrs.  Melsham 
answered.  "  As  Marketel  is  a  private  person,  the  loan  is 
a  private  business  concern,  not  an  international  one." 

"  Then,"  demanded  Naomi,  "  why  does  Strum  want  to 
meddle  in  the  matter  at  all?  " 

The  well-preserved  woman  turned  a  little  away.  She 
looked  steadily  before  her.  To  answer  truthfully  was  the 
very  last  thing  she  intended  to  do,  but  she  had  to  answer 
somehow.  She  hesitated,  searching  for  the  most  expedient 
invention. 

"  You  know,"  she  began,  "  that  all  Orientals  are  slippery. 
This  old  Chi  Lung  isn't  to  be  trusted  any  more  than  the 
rest  of  them.  Strum  has  heard  that  the  old  man  is  thinking 
of  wobbling — of  finding  out  what  Paul  Marketel  has  to 
offer,  and  then  playing  him  off  against  the  Germans.  That's 
exactly  what  Strum  means  to  prevent." 

"  Strum,  working  in  the  cause  of  righteousness,"  ex- 
claimed the  girl  bitterly. 

"  Now,"  went  on  Mrs.  Melsham,  conveniently  heedless  of 
the  interjection — "  this  is  your  chance.  Wouldn't  it  be  a 
splendid  beginning  for  you  to  see  that  the  Chinaman  did 
play  straight?  Just  the  thing  you  will  have  to  learn,  if  you 
mean  to  be  of  any  use  as  Roger  de  la  Haye's  wife." 

Naomi  pulled  up  the  flow  of  plausible  words  with  an 
abrupt  gesture. 

"  Let  me  understand  exactly  what  you  are  proposing  I 
should  do,"  she  demanded. 


104  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

It  was  a  moment  before  either  of  the  two  women  spoke 
again.  Naomi  looked  steadily  at  her  mother;  for  once  Mrs, 
Melsham  was  fidgety. 

"  Well,  my  dear,"  she  began,  "  you  know  old  men  like 
you.    Couldn't  you  get  round  this  old  Chinaman  ?  " 

"  And  tell  you  what  he  says,  that  you  may  tell  Strum," 
Naomi  flashed  out.  She  turned  on  her  mother  and  caught 
her  by  the  arm,  her  whole  being  aroused,  every  nerve 
tingling  with  repulsion. 

"  How  dare  you,"  she  began  incoherently,  "  how  dare  you 
suggest  that  I  should  lower  myself  to  cajole  that  old  man, 
how  dare  you  hint  at  underhand  methods  here?  I  know 
you.  Mama.  When  you  are  most  plausible,  you  are  most 
unscrupulous." 

"  Is  that  quite  the  language  a  daughter  should  use  to  a 
mother?"  Mrs.  Melsham  put  in. 

"  Mama,"  Naomi  protested,  "  it  isn't  my  fault  if  there 
are  times  when  I  am  not  able  to  remember  that  you  are  my 
mother." 

She  drew  herself  up. 

"  Understand,  please,"  she  said,  "  I  refuse  to  help  Strum, 
in  any  way,  and  I  refuse  to  fall  in  with  any  suggestions  you 
may  make  about  scheming  in  this  house." 

"  Then,"  retorted  Mrs.  Melsham,  in  a  very  even  voice, 
"  you  had  better  go  upstairs  and  pack  your  box." 

"  My  box,"  gasped  the  girl.     "  Why  ?  " 

"  Because,"  answered  her  mother,  "  Strum  made  no  secret 
of  his  intentions.  I  must  either  satisfy  him,  or  he  will  come 
down  and  tell  Lady  de  la  Haye — of — of  my  bad  arith- 
metic." 

"  Tell  Lady  de  la  Haye  about  that  chemin  de  fer?  " 

"  That  was  what  he  said.  I  was  always  sure  he  wasn't 
quite  what  one  would  call  a  gentleman." 

"  But,"  muttered  Naomi,  "  he  can't.     He  mustn't." 

"  I  know,"  said  Mrs.  Melsham,  "  and  with  Armand  de 
Rochecorbon  here  too.  Of  course  there's  no  real  evidence 
— and  it  happened  so  long  ago.  Things  always  seem  so 
much  less  credible  if  they  happened  a  few  years  back — but 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  105 

appearances  are  against  us,  my  dear.  It  may  take  facts 
to  damn  a  man,  you  know,  but  appearances  are  enough  to 
send  a  woman  to  blazes." 

Naomi  let  most  of  the  speech  go  without  comment.  She 
fastened  on  Strum's  threat.  She  realized  that  if  Hermann 
Strum  once  entered  Zouche,  the  doors  of  it  would  close  be- 
hind her  for  ever. 

What  was  the  thing  to  do  now?  To  leave  at  once  and 
defy  this  bully?  But  that  meant  giving  up  Roger — it  meant 
giving  up  the  one  ray  of  real  sunshine  that  had  ever  crept 
into  her  life.  Let  no  one  who  has  not  experienced  what  it 
means  to  be  shivering,  while  one  goes  on  pretending  one  is 
warm,  judge  her. 

Yet  she  still  kept  to  her  point. 

"  I  can't  do  it.  Mama,"  she  whispered.  "  There  must  be 
some  other  way.    "  Can't  we  buy  Strum  off  ?  " 

"  When  you  buy  a  man  off  today,  you  invite  him  to 
return  for  more  tomorrow,"  Naomi's  mother  answered. 
"  At  least,  that's  been  my  usual  experience." 

The  girl  walked  away.  She  stood  with  her  head  bent. 
She  still  felt  that  there  must  be  some  middle  course.  Even 
life,  which  can  be  so  infinitely  cruel,  couldn't  be  cruel  enough 
to  shut  her  out  here. 

"  There  is  one  little  thing  more,"  Mrs.  Melsham  went  on. 

"  More,"  repeated  Naomi,  turning  on  her. 

"  You  know  that  week-end  we  spent  on  Dartmoor  with 
those  rather  common  people  from  Ilfracombe — well.  Strum 
suggests  that  I  may  be  domiciled  there  for  a  certain  stated 

period "   (for  humor  with  Mrs.  Melsham  was  apt  to 

have  a  very  substantial  sting  in  its  tail). 

Naomi  looked  up  apprehensively. 

"  Domiciled  on  Dartmoor !  "  She  caught  her  breath — a 
sudden  recollection  of  Princetown  and  its  convicts  flashed 
upon  her. 

"  My  child,"  cooed  Mrs.  Melsham,  seeing  that  her  jibe 
had  gone  home,  "  you  are  really  growing  quite — quite  acute. 
Didn't  those  dear  Ilf  racombeites  of  ours  call  it  *  doing 
time'?" 


io6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

It  said  volumes  for  Naomi's  past  experiences,  that  there 
was  horror  on  her  face,  but  no  amazement. 

*  You  mean  to  say "  she  began. 

Mrs.  Melsham  shrugged  one  of  her  shm  shoulders. 

"  The  name  on  a  certain  check  was  not — er — baptismally 
— mine,"  she  said,  laughing  as  if,  after  all,  forgery  was  a 
trifle — and  a  rather  amusing  one  at  that — "  but  my  fingers 
happened  to  guide  the  pen." 

"  And  the  check  is  in  Strum's  possession?  " 

"  So  he  informed  me  yesterday." 

"  How  did  he  get  it  ?  "  the  girl  cried  out. 

Mrs.  Melsham  looked  tolerantly  at  her  daughter. 

"Does  that  really  matter?"  she  observed.  "The  inter- 
esting question  is — what's  he  going  to  do  with  it?  " 

"  Do  with  it?  "  Naomi  repeated. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Melsham.  "  Of  course  you'd  be  merely 
the  innocent  victim  of  a  guilty  mother,  but  would  the 
De  la  Hayes  look  on  it  in  that  light?  People  are  so  narrow- 
minded  still,  aren't  they?" 

She  paused  and  watched  her  daughter's  face.  Two  lines 
had  come  upon  it  already.  There  was  the  hollow  shadow 
of  anxiety  on  either  temple. 

"  Yesterday,"  Mrs.  Melsham  resumed,  "  Strum  promised 
to  give  me  back  that  check  in  exchange  for " 

"  For  what "  Naomi  gasped. 

"  For  authentic  details  of  this  Chinese  navy  loan." 

Naomi  sank  into  the  nearest  chair.  She  put  ner  elbows 
on  her  knees,  and  held  her  chin  in  her  two  palms.  Even 
leaving  Zouche,  even  letting  Roger  believe  that  she  had  gone 
because  she  was  indifferent  to  him,  would  not  recover  that 
check.  It  never  once  entered  her  mind  to  doubt  that  Her- 
mann Strum  would  act  on  his  threat.  She  knew  the  man 
too  well. 

"  Be  sensible,"  Mrs.  Melsham  went  on,  "  common-sense 
may  be  dull,  but  it  is  a  serviceable  bridge  over  many  a 
difficult  situation." 

Naomi  looked  up  hopelessly.     She  shook  her  head. 

"  Remember,"   said   Mrs.   Melsham,  "  the  alternative  is 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  107 

prison  for  me,  and  with  my  heart  in  the  condition  it  is,  you 
know  what  that  would  mean." 

Naomi  put  up  both  hands  as  if  she  expected  to  be  struck. 

"  Oh !  Mama,"  she  wailed.  "  Don't,  don't  put  it  like 
that."  She  got  up  with  difficulty,  as  if  she  were  already  old 
and  stiff.  She  walked  unsteadily  to  her  mother's  side,  and 
stood  there,  her  eyes  wide  with  horror.  She  was  still  trying 
to  rally  her  mind,  she  was  still  trying  to  find  the  right  thing 
and  the  strength  to  do  it,  and  then,  before  a  single  ray  of 
clear  thought,  much  less  the  words  in  which  to  formulate  it, 
would  come  to  her,  Mrs.  Melsham  lifted  a  warning  finger. 
Her  quick  ears — all  the  senses  must  be  trained  to  a  fine 
point  for  a  life  like  hers — had  caught  the  murmur  of  voices 
in  the  room  beyond. 

"  What  room  is  that?  "  she  asked. 

*'  The  Chinese  writing-room,"  Naomi  faltered. 

"  The  Chinese  writing-room,"  repeated  Mrs.  Melsham, 
in  an  injured  tone.  "  You  might  have  told  me  that  before. 
Hermann  Strum  assured  me  that  the  Chinese  writing-room 
hatched  diplomatic  agreements  as  if  it  were  an  incubator 
hatching  chickens :  but  I  never  dreamed  it  w'ould  lead  out 
of  the  drawing-room — I  thought  of  it  up  in  a  turret,  all  by 
itself.  Who,"  a  sharper  note  coming  into  her  voice,  "  is 
■  in  it  now?  " 

"  The  Chinaman  and  Paul  Marketel,  I  believe,"  the  girl 
answered. 

"  Naomi !  "  Mrs.  Melsham  protested,  "  and  you  never  men- 
tioned that  either.  Secretiveness  is  one  of  your  worst  faults. 
I  might  have  made  such  good  use  of  the  time — and  saved 
you  all  those  scruples." 

She  hurried  to  the  door  as  she  spoke,  and  deliberately  put 
her  ear  to  the  keyhole. 

"  Mama ! "  protested  Naomi.  She  darted  across  the 
room,  and  was  about  to  drag  her  mother  away  when  Mrs. 
Melsham  anticipated  her. 

"  They  are  coming  out.  I  hear  them.  Quick,"  she 
whispered,  "where  can  we  hide?" 

There  was  a  great  screen  of  Chinese  lacquer  and  gold 


io8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

down  one  side  of  the  room.  Mrs.  Melsham  darted  to  it, 
pulling  her  daughter  after  her.  She  pushed  the  girl  be- 
hind the  folds  before  Naomi  could  protest,  and  then 
almost  as  soon  as  they  were  hidden,  the  two  doors  from 
the  Chinese  Room  opened,  Chi  Lung  came  out  first,  Paul 
Marketel  followed. 

"  Lo !  "  observed  the  old  Celestial,  and  he  was  evidently 
well  pleased,  for  there  was  quite  a  chuckle  in  his  voice,  "  at 
last  the  Babe  is  born.  The  man  of  much  money  has  ac- 
quired yet  another  child  for  the  family  of  his  bank  book." 

The  old  man  motioned  for  Paul  to  pass  along.  He 
turned  and  carefully  locked  the  door,  taking  out  the  big 
bronze  key, 

"  One  more  lock,  one  less  watch-dog,  we  say  in  the  Land 
of  Enlightenment,"  he  told  Paul.  Marketel  answered  with 
a  general  assent.  The  old  man  went  shuffling  along,  the 
key  still  in  his  hand.  He  drew  aside  the  blind,  just  as  he 
would  have  done  one  of  his  own  sun  mats  at  home  within 
the  Imperial  City.  Paul  Marketel  followed  him,  the  blind 
flapped  to  again.    The  room  was  empty  once  more. 

"Impertinence!'  whispered  Mrs.  Melsham  as  she  came 
out  of  her  hiding-place.  "  To  walk  off  with  the  key  in 
another  person's  house  !  " 

She  turned  to  her  daughter.  There  was  something 
indefinably  cat-like  about  her. 

"  Well ! "  she  rapped  out,  "  will  you  go  in  and  make  a 
copy  of  that  agreement,  or  shall  I  ?  " 

"  I — I — I  won't  steal,"  protested  Naomi. 

Mrs.  Melsham  laughed  as  if  she  really  were  amused. 

"  Don't  forget  the  alternative,"  she  cooed. 

"  The  door  is  locked,"  Naomi  blurted  out,  "  you  saw 
that  for  yourself," 

Mrs.  Melsham  carefully  suppressed  a  smile.  She  knew 
that  the  plea  of  the  impossible  is  so  often  the  last  entrench- 
ment of  the  wavering  mind. 

"  Prison  underclothes,  ugh ! "  she  muttered,  "  and  you 
know  that  I  have  so  fine  a  skin  that  it  always  chafes  under 
anything  less  than  real  Valenciennes." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  109 

Suddenly  she  swung  round  and  looked  at  the  doors  into 
the  hall. 

"  They  are  pairs,"  she  exclaimed.  "  I'll  lay  two  to  one 
the  same  key  fits  both." 

She  was  across  the  room  in  a  moment.  In  as  short  a 
space  of  time,  she  had  changed  the  key  from  one  lock  to 
the  other.     It  turned  the  moment  she  laid  her  hand  on  it. 

"  There  !  "  she  cried  out  triumphantly.  "  The  quality  of 
imagination !    Your  father  never  had  a  spark  of  it," 

Naomi  backed  away. 

"  No !    No !    No !    I  won't,"  she  clamored. 

Her  mother  turned  about.  Her  lips  were  in  a  very 
sharp  line.  She  wanted  to  shake  her  daughter,  and  looked 
as  if  she  were  about  to  do  it.  But,  as  she  swept  past  the 
sofa,  a  falling  cushion  brought  down  Naomi's  camera  with 
it.  Mrs.  Melsham  saw  it  as  it  fell,  and  it  didn't  take  her 
more  than  a  couple  of  moments  to  see  what  use  it  might 
be  to  her. 

She  picked  it  up  and  brought  it  to  her  daughter. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "isn't  this  your  kodak?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Naomi. 

"You  were  taking  photographs  of  this  room?" 

"  I  was  going  to,  only  you  came  in  and  prevented  it." 

"For  whom?" 

"  Sir  Roger  wanted  them." 

"  Then !  My  dear !  "  said  Mrs.  Melsham,  tucking  her 
hand  under  Naomi's  arm — "  we  will  do  them  together,  only 
the  series  shall  include  one  of  the  desk  in  the  Chinese 
writing-room,  and  on  that  desk  shall  chance  to  be  lying 
the  agreement  for  the  navy  loan." 

"  Mama  !  "  Naomi  protested.    "  Mama  !  " 

She  broke  away  from  her  mother.  She  hastened  to  the 
furthest  corner. 

"  Such  a  small  thing  to  do,"  purred  Mrs.  Melsham, 
"  and  so  safe.  Not  a  single  word  in  writing — I  always 
warned  you  against  that.  I  believe  ink  was  the  devil's 
revenge  on  woman,  when  he  found  Eve  making  such  a 
fuss  about  the  apple." 


no  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"No!  No!  No!"  Naomi  interjected,  catching  her 
breath,  tripping  over  her  words  in  her  agitation.  *'  I  won't ; 
I— won't " 

The  door  from  the  hall  opened  and  Lady  de  la  Haye 
entered.  Littleport  had  sought  her  out  to  tell  her  that 
Miss  Melsham's  mother  was  in  the  salon,  and  the  old  man's 
dry  manner  had  not  reassured  her.  The  drawing-room 
may  be  taken  in  by  spurious  gentility — the  servants'  hall 
never. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  began  with  a  courteous  word  of  regret. 
She  had  been  in  the  garden :  the  servants  had  had  a  diffi- 
culty in  finding  her:  but  as  she  spoke,  she  was  telling  her- 
self that  she  did  not  like  this  woman. 

There  was  nothing  in  Mrs.  Melsham's  outward  appear- 
ance of  which  she  could  disapprove,  but  some  inner  instinct 
warned  her,  and  while  it  warned  her  it  both  enlightened 
and  misled  her.  This,  she  concluded,  accounted  for  the 
hesitation  she  had  remarked  in  Naomi's  manner.  Her 
mother  was  not  personally  amiable. 

As  for  Mrs.  Melsham  she  knew  as  quickly  that  she 
was  found  wanting.  As  a  rule  when  old-fashioned  peo- 
ple gave  themselves  airs  she  knew  how  to  get  even 
with  them,  as  she  herself  would  have  said,  but  on 
this  occasion  she  wished  to  propitiate,  not  to  antago- 
nize. 

"  I  am  so  glad  to  have  the  opportunity  of  meeting  you," 
she  said  to  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

She  looked  at  her  daughter,  and  the  breath  of  a  sad 
little  sigh  fluttered  into  the  room. 

"  I  wished  very  much  to  know  you  myself,"  she  added 
softly. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  saw  the  subtlety  of  the  manoeuver.  She 
had  not  included  Mrs.  Melsham  in  the  invitation.  She 
was  to  be  put  in  the  wrong. 

Mrs.  Melsham  just  gave  her  time  enough  to  make  the 
deduction,  but  not  time  enough  to  dwell  on  it. 

"  I  came  over  to  see  my  daughter  about  our  future 
plans,"  she  said.    "  I  had  received  a  pressing  invitation  to 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  in 

pay  a  lengthy  visit  in  Devonshire — on  Dartmoor.  I  wanted 
to  consult  Naomi." 

"  And  you  have  come  to  a  decision  together  ? "  asked 
Lady  de  la  Haye. 

"  I  think  I  have  left  it  to  her,"  Mrs.  Melsham  answered. 

She  glanced  at  the  watch  on  her  wrist.  "  I  am  afraid 
I  must  be  going,"  she  said.  "  Ada  Tippley-Smith  dines  at 
eight.  She  sent  m.e  over  in  her  motor.  She  is  a  dear  good 
soul — but  punctual,  even  to  a  fault." 

"  At  least  let  me  give  you  a  cup  of  tea  first."  Amabelle 
suggested,  for  she  felt  that  she  could  not  let  Naomi's 
mother  go  without  some  show  of  hospitality. 

Mrs.  Melsham  smiled  playfully. 

"  I  confess  to  a  love  of  tea,"  she  answered,  "  but  today, 
may  I  not  mention  the  dust,  and  say  motoring  is  thirsty 
work?  " 

"  Then  come,"  said  Lady  de  la  Haye,  *'  tea  is  on  the 
terrace." 

She  was  going  towards  the  window  when  Mrs.  Melsham 
stopped  her. 

"  My  sunshade,"  she  said — "'  I  left  it  in  the  hall,  and," 
plaintively,  "  I  do  rather  dread  the  glare  for  my  eyes." 

"  Then,"  said  Lady  de  la  Haye,  "  we  will  go  out  that 
way." 

Mrs.  Melsham  turned  to  her  daughter. 

"  You  do  advise  me  to  refuse  that  invitation  to  Dart- 
moor?" she  asked  aloud — she  looked  ahead.  Naomi  was 
mumbling  incoherently.  Lady  de  !a  Haye,  thinking  that 
the  mother  and  daughter  might  like  a  word  apart,  was  pass- 
ing out  of  the  room. 

"  I  have  prevented  her  drawing  up  the  blinds,"  Mrs. 
Melsham  insisted.  "  Now  you  have  a  clear  course.  Hurry, 
go  in  and  make  the  photograph.  Then  do  up  the  kodak 
in  a  parcel.  Leave  the  cover — that  makes  it  too  large — 
Just  wrap  up  the  camera  and  bring  it  to  me.  Say  it's  lace 
for  the  dressmaker  or  something." 

Mrs  Melsham  turned  as  she  said  that.  She  heard  Naomi 
mattering  after  her,  "  Mama !  Mama !  " 


112  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

She  knew  the  faltering  sounds  were  coming  through  dry 
lips:  she  knew  that  Naomi  was  trembUng  from  head  to 
foot — ^but  she  never  looked  round. 

The  time  for  discussion  was  past.  It  was  better  to  leave 
the  girl  to  herself. 


CHAPTER  IX 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  on  the  following  morning  that  his 
Excellency,  the  special  envoy  from  China,  left  Zouche  to 
return  to  London.  Both  Roger  and  Paul  were  waiting  to 
receive  him  as  he  came  downstairs.  He  came  up  to  them, 
and  without  once  glancing  towards  the  door  began  to  talk 
as  if  the  whole  day  were  before  him. 

It  was  Roger  who  looked  at  his  watch, 

"  It  isn't  time  yet,  the  car  won't  be  round  for  five  min- 
utes," he  said,  as  he  repressed  a  smile,  for  he  knew  that 
Chi  Lung  had  never  got  over  his  Oriental  predilection  for 
going  to  a  station  without  any  reference  to  a  time-table, 
and  staying  there  until  the  engine  happened  to  get  up  steam. 

"  The  eyes  of  the  venerable  have  nobler  work  than  to 
weary  themselves  with  the  figures  in  the  book  of  hurry," 
declared  his  Excellency  testily,  and  ostentatiously  he 
walked  back  towards  the  stairs. 

The  hall  was  long.  It  was  somewhat  narrow  for  the 
size  of  the  house.  The  double  doors  leading  to  the  salon 
were  on  one  side,  opposite  them  a  similar  pair  opened  into 
the  dining-room.  Further  along  were  two  recesses.  One 
was  the  entrance  to  a  corridor  giving  access  to  Lady  de  la 
Haye's  sitting-room,  the  billiard  room,  and  various  other 
small  rooms.  From  out  of  the  other  went  up  the  great 
circular  staircase,  with  the  ribs  of  each  step  set  into  a  cen- 
tral column,  as  one  sees  in  the  steps  at  Amboise.  Even 
in  the  hall  there  were  evidences  of  Sir  Arthur's  love  of 
Chinese  art,  A  few  fine  bronzes  topped  a  lacquer  cabinet: 
more  were  on  a  low  table,  but  the  K'osse,  or,  as  they  were 
more  generally  known,  mosdiques  de  sole,  on  the  walls 
were  the  principal  attraction.  Savants,  curiosity  hunters 
from  all  over  the  world,  came  to  look  at  these  great  panels 
of  embroidery  in  silk,  which,  starting  in  tones  of  maize, 

113 


114  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

mounted  up  to  a  vivid  orange-red,  harmonized  here  and 
there  with  touches  of  tender  green.  Each  panel  represented 
a  typically  Chinese  scene,  and  as  Paul  Marketel  asked  a 
question  about  the  one  nearest  to  him,  Naomi  Melsham 
appeared  within  the  arch  from  the  staircase. 

It  was  Roger  who  saw  her  first. 

"  At  last,"  he  began  eagerly.  "  I  thought  you  were  never 
coming." 

"  Am  I  so  very  late  ? "  asked  Naomi,  and  she  laughed 
uncertainly. 

Roger  looked  at  her  intently.  Carefully  as  he  had  marked 
the  variations  of  her  mood,  with  a  view  to  a  more  perfect 
understanding,  he  knew  now  that  there  was  an  aspect  before 
him  which  he  had  not  hitherto  seen. 

"  You  are  tired,"  he  declared.  "  You  look  as  if  you  had 
been  in  pain." 

"  I  had  neuralgia.  I  didn't  sleep  particularly  well,"  the 
girl  answered  briefly. 

She  walked  on  towards  Paul  and  the  Chinaman.  Roger 
looked  after  her.  He  experienced  that  sensation  of  a  door 
shut  in  his  face.  Just  as  it  had  disconcerted  him  before, 
it  did  so  now :  and  then,  being  a  man  and  being  in  love,  he 
found  a  solution  to  please  himself.  Naomi  evidently 
shrank  from  the  mention  of  her  physical  ills.  So  many  of 
the  nicest  women  did. 

"  She  is  splendid,"  he  said  to  himself. 

He  followed  her  with  admiring  eyes.  He  thought  he  saw 
a  touch  of  deprecation  in  her  greeting  both  of  Chi  Lung 
and  of  Paul,  and  of  course  told  himself  that  it  must  be 
fanc)^:  but  there  was  no  possibility  of  fancy  about  Chi 
Lung's  manner.  The  old  man  was  so  grufif,  so  abrupt,  that 
for  the  first  time  in  his  life  Roger  thought  of  his  father's 
old  friend  as  a  barbarian :  as  someone  outside  the  niceties 
of  civilization,  for  whom  an  allowance  must  be  made. 

"Have  you  seen  this.  Miss  Melsham?"  he  hastened  to 
say,  and  he  indicated  the  mosdique.  "  This  represents 
*  Shou,'  the  character  for  long  life." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  115 

Naomi  was  at  his  elbow  before  he  finished  speaking,  and 
she  came  there  as  if  she  needed  a  refuge. 

"  Shou  ?  "  she  repeated. 

"  With  the  Chinese,  long  life  is  practically  synonymous 
with  happiness,"  Roger  explained. 

The  girl  glanced  at  the  eight  embroidered  genii  (and  to 
her  they  seemed  very  grim  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
happiness),  seated  among  a  typical  Chinese  scene  of 
foliage  and  steep  conventional  rock  work,  and  as  she  looked 
at  the  stiff  attitudes,  at  the  caricatures  of  human  features, 
she  saw  in  them  not  a  symbol,  but  a  mockery. 

"  I  hate  it,"  she  said  vehemently. 

"  You  hate  what  ?  "  asked  Roger  concernedly. 

"Don't  you  understand?"  Naomi  answered,  and  there 
was  a  ring  of  supplication  in  her  voice.  *'  Long  life  isn't 
worth  anything,  as  long  life.  Without  happiness,  it  would 
be  a  curse  not  a  blessing.  Fancy  knowing  one  had  to  live  to 
eighty,  if  regret  or  misery,  or  even  the  consequences  of 
some  great  mistake,  went  with  one  all  the  way." 

There  was  such  a  ring  in  the  voice,  that  Paul  looked 
round  quickly,  and  Chi  Lung  gazed  fixedly  over  his  spec- 
tacles. Already  the  old  Chinaman  hated  this  golden-haired 
girl.  She  had  upset  a  delusion — she  came  between  him 
and  Roger.  As  a  rule,  Chi  Lung  lumped  European  women 
together,  and  declared  that  he  never  knew  one  from  the 
other.  As  for  their  garments,  they  were,  in  his  mind,  but 
so  many  yards  of  indecencies. 

In  this  instance  he  so  far  individualized  as  to  remark  not 
only  that  Naomi  was  very  good-looking — good-looking,  that 
is,  according  to  the  canons  of  a  barbarian  taste,  but  that 
her  lavender  frock  accentuated  her  glorious  coloring  and 
the  best  lines  of  her  figure.  Not  that  he  approved :  on  the 
contrary,  if  any  "  little  old  woman  "  of  his  ever-blessed 
Middle  Kingdom  had  showed  such  a  disposition  to  coquetry 
(Chi  Lung  gave  it  a  harder  name),  then  that  tyrant  of  the 
household,  the  mother-in-law,  might  be  trusted  to  deal  with 
her.    But  here,  in  this  barbarous  land,  there  were  no  salu- 


ii6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

tary  ways  of  enforcing  propriety.  Even  a  husband  was 
denied  the  power  of  the  stick. 

"  How  can  a  woman  know  what  constitutes  happiness?" 
he  asked  rudely.  "  Happiness  without  stabiHty  is  Hke  a 
melon  without  sun,  and  a  woman  will  be  of  the  same  mind 
two  days  together,  when  the  waters  of  the  Yellow  River 
run  clear." 

Naomi  drew  herself  up.  She  half  turned  to  Roger  as  if 
she  were  about  to  ask  him  to  take  up  her  defense,  and  then 
she  walked  along  to  the  smaller  door,  which  faced  the  big 
entrance  and  opened  on  to  the  terrace. 

It  was  ajar  already,  but  Naomi  threw  it  back  as  if  she 
had  an  urgent  need  for  air.  She  was  trembling  and  her 
lip  quivered. 

"  That  old  Chinaman  hates  me  already,"  she  exclaimed, 
and  then  to  Roger  as  he  followed  her,  "  Why  does  he  dis- 
like me  so  much  ?  "  she  asked. 

Roger  smiled  slowly.  In  his  opinion  the  answer  would 
involve  another  explanation,  and  one  concerned  with  a 
much  greater  thing.  He  was  half  inclined  to  speak  then 
and  there,  to  pour  out  his  desires,  his  hopes.  But  a  feel- 
ing, so  light  as  to  be  a  sentiment  rather  than  a  resolution, 
restrained  him.  It  was  the  lover's  susceptibility  to  an  atmos- 
phere. The  hostility  generated  within  the  hall  floated  out 
into  the  exquisite  summer  morning. 

"  Chi  Lung  does  not  dislike  you,"  he  temporized.  "  He 
is  afraid  of  you." 

"  Afraid  of  me !  "  cried  out  Naomi. 

She  bit  her  lip.  For  an  instant  it  was  she  who 
was  filled  with  fear.  Had  the  old  Chinaman  the  faculty 
of  picking  out  evil,  of  seeing  through  the  wall  of  per- 
sonality, of  watching  the  workings  of  a  soul?  She  had 
heard  strange  things  about  the  occult  powers  of  the  Celes- 
tial. 

This  time,  naturally,  Roger  failed  to  follow  her.  He 
read  the  hesitation  very  differently,  and  laughed  as  a  man 
does  laugh  when  he  thinks  he  sees  the  wine  in  his  cup  of 
happiness  mounting  to  the  brim. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  117 

"  Never  mind  Chi  Lung,"  he  cried  out,  "  I  want  to  talk 
to  you  about  something  else." 

Naomi  looked  up,  her  face  was  aglow  with  that  light 
which  beautifies  the  plainest  woman  and  enhances  the  most 
lovely.  Paul  Marketel,  coming  out  of  the  door,  happened 
to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  transfiguration.  He  always  re- 
membered it,  and  in  the  time  to  come,  it  grew  to  be,  if  not 
the  key  to  the  great  enigma,  at  least  a  clue  to  many  a 
puzzling  circumstance. 

"  Roger,  his  Excellency  is  by  himself,  he  doesn't  look 
overpleased,"  he  began,  for  he  felt  that  however  provoking 
the  envoy  from  Pekin  must  be,  so  important  a  person  as 
the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  must  not  feel  himself  reproved.  But 
as  he  got  so  far.  Lady  de  la  Haye  mounted  the  steps  from 
the  bowling-green. 

Naomi  went  swiftly  to  meet  her,  and  the  two  women 
came  back  together.  Lady  de  la  Haye  had  a  single  flower 
in  her  hand — one  large  red  rose  about  to  burst  into  bloom. 

The  Oriental  offers  a  flower,  the  Occidental  a  bouquet. 
The  difference  is  not  without  its  significance. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  just  took  in  the  fact  that  the  young 
people  were  outside,  the  old  man  within,  then  she  entered 
quickly  and  hastened  up  to  Chi  Lung. 

"  From  Zouche,"  she  said,  as  she  held  out  the  rose,  and 
there  was  an  appeal  in  her  low  tone. 

His  Excellency  took  the  flower.  There  followed  a  pause. 
It  was  not  a  mere  waiting  for  inspiration.  It  was  obvi- 
ously something  deeper,  much  farther  reaching.  It  was, 
probably,  that  the  old  man's  mind  had  gone  back  to  far- 
away days,  that  he  was  reaffirming  certain  vows.  He  held 
up  his  thin,  claw-like  hand. 

"  May  the  house  wax  and  increase,"  he  began,  "  even  as 
this  blossom  has  still  petals  to  unfold.  May  the  incense 
of  happiness  rise  up  from  this  house,  even  as  the  perfume 
rises  up  from  this  flower,  and  may  the  house  continue,  when 
the  rose  has  cast  its  leaves  on  the  floor,  for  as  long  as  the 
lantern  bearer  lights  the  sky  and  the  orb  of  gold  rises  to 
renew  the  morning." 


ii8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

He  looked  round,  he  saw  that  Roger  had  joined  his 
mother.     He  touched  the  young  man's  sleeve. 

"  Hope  of  the  house,"  he  said.  "  Your  father  was  my 
friend.     I  am  your  friend." 

Then,  with  that  shuffling,  soft-soled  walk,  he  moved  to 
the  entrance.  He  would  have  gone  there  equally  if  there 
had  been  no  car  waiting,  since  he  had  uttered  his  last  greet- 
ing, and  when  a  Chinaman  comes  to  finality,  generally  by 
a  long  route,  he  leaves. 

But  the  car  happened  to  have  anticipated  him.  He  seated 
himself  carefully,  arranged  the  skirts  of  his  coat  about  his 
thin  knees,  and  recollecting  where  he  was,  so  far  unbent  as 
to  put  his  hand  up  to  his  hat. 

To  remove  i;  was  impossible.  A  Chinaman  who  will  go 
bareheaded  is  a  Chinaman  conscious  of  disgrace,  or  a 
Chinaman  lost  to  the  strongest  instincts  of  his  race. 

Roger  stood  at  the  door.  The  car  disappeared  down  the 
long  straight  white  drive,  it  mounted  the  narrow  bridge 
with  the  stone  balustrade  which  led  on  to  the  high  road. 
The  big  gates  of  beaten  iron  were  open,  and  so  it  had  not 
to  slacken  speed,  but  swinging  round  to  the  left,  it  was 
lost  behind  a  belt  of  trees. 

When  not  a  sound,  not  so  much  as  a  hint  of  the  dust 
cloud  remained,  Roger  still  stood  looking  out.  He  knew 
that  Naomi  had  come  out  to  his  side,  that  the  others  had 
gone  in.  It  was  kind  of  his  mother  to  take  Paul  off,  just 
like  her  understanding  mind.  A  man  in  love  is  selfishness 
incarnate.  Roger  never  recollected  that  this  effacement 
could  not  be  without  its  cost  to  Lady  de  la  Haye.  The  very 
proximity  of  the  woman  whom  he  knew  he  loved  with  all 
his  heart  was  such  a  joy  that  he  delayed  to  go  on  to  any- 
thing further.  Presently  he  would  look  down,  and  so  pro- 
vide himself  with  two  separate  occasions  of  delight. 

It  was  a  little  space  of  time  which  Roger  cherished  in  his 
memory  to  the  last  day  of  his  life. 

Before  him  was  the  sloping  stretch  of  grass,  and,  dotted 
about  in  it  were  great  upstanding  oak  trees,  oaks  which  had 
been  there  hundreds  of  years,  and  which,  if  left  to  them- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  119 

selves,  would  be  there  yet  as  many  years  again :  sycamores, 
with  their  smooth  trunks  peeHng  in  patches,  with  that  fan- 
Hke  movement  of  their  fluttering  leaves.  And  then,  on 
down  the  slope,  by  a  winding  band  of  water,  which  glittered 
in  the  sun,  was  a  fringe  of  gray  tinted  willows,  and.  stand- 
ing out  on  a  little  hillock  of  green,  as  if  flaunting  its  unique 
coloring,  was  a  copper-beech,  with  its  foliage  of  burnished 
brown. 

It  seemed  to  Roger  that  love  had  set  a  term  to  irrespon- 
sibility. Up  till  now,  he  had  accepted  the  accessories  of 
his  life,  without  any  deeper  feeling  than  that  of  being  glad 
they  were  there.  Even  Zouche  had  been  no  more  than  a 
house  which  he  loved  because  it  was  his.  Now,  it  became 
the  setting  for  the  great  fact  of  human  existence.  Pos- 
session as  possession,  became  a  new  thing  to  him.  His 
father  had  been  here  before  him ;  after  he  was  gone,  there 
might  be  his  son,  his  own  son,  living  in  this  house,  just  as 
he  lived  there  now. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  Roger  in  his  own  person  clearly 
perceived  himself  to  be  a  link  in  the  endless  chain  of  evolu- 
tion. The  idea  seemed  to  point  so  distinctly  to  one  uni- 
versal whole  that  it  gave  him  a  feeling  of  kinship  with  the 
trees  before  him,  with  the  very  blades  of  grass  at  his  feet: 
and  then,  as  he  gazed,  the  sight  of  Paul  Marketel's  crossing 
over  from  the  garden  to  the  park  dropped  back  his  imagina- 
tion from  the  universal  to  the  particular. 

"  Where  are  you  going?  "  Roger  called  to  him. 

"  To  exercise  my  bulky  person,"  Paul  returned, 

"  In  this  sun,"  expostulated  Roger. 

"  Why  not?"  asked  Marketel  obstinately. 

That  was  precisely  the  question  Roger  could  not  answer. 
He  was  pretty  well  certain  that  Paul  was  in  trouble — he 
didn't  know  how  deep  things  had  gone,  but  he  was  sure  that 
this  big  man  would  never  poach  lightly  or  willingly,  and  so 
he  concluded  that  probably  the  exercise  was  more  for  the 
good  of  the  mind  than  for  the  body. 

"Any  letters  to  post?"  asked  Paul  abruptly.  His  tone 
was  almost  aggressive.     No  barometer  is  as  sensitive  to 


I20  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

atmospheric  pressure  as  is  the  perturbed  lover  to  opinion — 
or  comment.  Paul  felt  that  he  could  not  expose  his  wound, 
much  less  allow  Roger  to  probe  it. 

"  I  took  my  letters  before  breakfast,"  answered  Roger, 
making  his  assertion  as  casual  as  possible. 

"  You  did !  "  Paul  exclaimed — "  why  didn't  you  let  me 
know  and  I  would  have  come  with  you." 

"  I  thought  of  coming  to  your  room,  but  I  wasn't  sure 
that  you  would  bless  my  enthusiasm  for  early  rising,"  said 
Roger,  in  a  relieved  tone,  for  he  wanted  to  laugh  away  any 
impression  in  Paul's  mind  that  he  had  been  inquisitive. 

The  big  man  nodded.  Men  hate  an  explanation — 
women  cling  to  one — and  it  has  been  the  pit  digged  for 
more  than  one  happiness  in  this  world. 

"  A  pity,"  Paul  observed.     "  I  wasn't  asleep." 

"  Fm  sorry  too,"  Roger  answered. 

With  that  he  dismissed  the  matter,  but  afterwards  he 
realized  how  portentous  was  this  checked  impulse,  how 
many  things  might  have  run  a  different  course,  if  he  had 
taken  Paul  down  the  village  road  with  him — above  all,  if 
Paul  had  seen  with  his  own  eyes  exactly  how  many  letters 
were  posted,  and,  possibly,  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  ad- 
dresses on  them. 

But  not  even  the  cloud  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand  was 
upon  his  sky  yet.     He  turned  to  Naomi. 

"  Come  into  the  garden,"  he  suggested,  "  the  borders 
always  look  their  best  in  the  morning;  besides,  all  the  blue 
delphiniums  ought  to  be  out  by  now,  and  they,"  he  went  on 
so  softly  that  the  words  were  said  to  himself  rather  than 
to  her — "  must  be  first  cousins  to  your  eyes." 

Naomi  looked  down.  Women  always  appreciate  compli- 
ments according  to  their  intention.  Roger's  was  prompted 
by  admiration,  and  she  knew  what  it  carried  with  it. 

"  Naomi,"  he  implored  again. 

The  girl  shut  her  eyes.  She  swayed.  It  had  come — the 
thing  so  supremely  desired  that  she  had  sinned  to  obtain 
it.  Yet,  with  life  at  its  apogee,  she  turned  cold.  She  was 
cast  down,  not  uplifted. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  lai 

"  If  only,"  she  whispered  in  her  heart,  "  her  hands  had 
been  clean  and  her  conscience  untroubled." 

But  Roger  gave  her  little  enough  time  to  think.  He 
caught  one  hand  and  then  the  other. 

"  Look  at  me,"  he  urged.  "  Hear  me.  Naomi — ^you 
know — you  must  know,  all  I  must  say  to  you." 


CHAPTER  X 

Paul  Marketel  plodded  along  on  his  way  to  the  village, 
for,  whenever  it  is  an  affair  of  the  emotions  with  a  man, 
he  craves  to  exercise  his  limbs:  just  as  when  it  is  an  affair 
of  finance,  his  instinct  prompts  him  to  dine  to  repletion. 

He  had  said  he  was  going  to  Zouche,  so  there  he  would 
go,  otherwise  he  had  no  more  reason  for  taking  the  road 
to  the  left  than  that  to  the  right.  He  told  himself  grimly 
— he  who  had  seen  all  the  great  cities  of  the  world  in  their 
splendor — that  it  would  give  him  something  to  look  at.  The 
time  before,  when  he  stayed  with  the  De  la  Hayes,  it  was 
for  pheasant  shooting,  and  there  had  been  no  time  and 
perhaps  no  inclination  for  solitary  explorations. 

The  village,  Zouche  St.  Margaret,  to  distinguish  it  from 
other  hamlets  on  the  estate,  known  respectively  as  Water 
Zouche  and  Little  Zouche,  with  that  straggling  habit  dear 
to  East  Anglia,  began  with  four  cottages  in  a  row.  not  a 
hundred  yards  from  the  big  gates.  They  were  whitewashed 
and  thatched :  they  were  built  of  mud  and  laths,  and  the 
longevity  and  heartiness  of  the  occupants  would  have  been 
disconcerting  to  any  of  those  windy  enthusiasts  who  seem 
to  think  thai  the  one  qualification  for  holding  forth  on  agri- 
cultural affairs  is  to  live  in  a  town. 

About  three  times  as  far  along  again,  down  the  powdery 
road  which  dipped  deeper  and  deeper  between  its  banks  as 
it  neared  the  hollow  in  which  the  village,  like  all  the  other 
long-settled  villages  of  the  district,  was  built, — began  "  the 
Street,"  as  it  was  locally  called.  More  white  cottages, 
more  sloping  gardens  with  great  white  lilies  standing  up  in 
the  sunshine,  and  with  honeysuckle  bursting  through  the 
hedge  all  set  on  the  south  side  of  the  road,  and  totaling 
some  twenty-five  dwellings,  some  of  them  detached,  some 
of  them  in  pairs,  with  the  village  shop  and  post-office  com- 

123 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  123 

bined,  where  soap  elbowed  butter,  and  postal  orders  were 
now  and  again  disinterred  from  under  lollipop  bottles, 
breaking  the  line  in  the  middle.  At  the  farther  end,  the 
street  was  finished  off  by  an  ancient  inn,  white  and 
thatched  also,  with  heavy,  overhanging  eaves,  and  a  way- 
farers' bench  of  oak,  polished  with  time,  under  its  parlor 
window,  while  before  it  swung  the  creaking  sign  of  "  The 
Fading  Flower  "  from  the  top  of  a  high  pole. 

Beyond  the  inn  was  the  church,  disproportionately  large, 
which  had  looked  down  on  the  comings  and  goings  in 
Zouche  since  the  early  years  of  the  thirteenth  century. 

Paul's  appearance  in  the  street  made  a  certain  stir,  there 
was  a  proprietary  interest  in  visitors  from  the  great  house, 
and  not  a  little  reflected  prestige  from  their  varied  national- 
ties.  Not  that  Zouche  would  have  owned  to  any  sentiment 
so  universal.  It  kept  itself  to  itself  and,  theoretically, 
looked  down  on  anyone  who  had  the  misfortune  to  be  born 
out  of  the  parish. 

Paul  had  heard  about  this  and  it  amused  him  to  see  the 
children  running  along  to  herald  him  as  "  that  one  from 
foreign  parts." 

The  women  came  out  of  their  doors.  They  leaned  over 
their  gates,  frankly  eager  to  detect  something  abnormal, 
while  Martha  Sinister,  the  acknowledged  gossip,  loudly 
lamented  "  him  ba'int  a  mite  different  from  we." 

Paul  was  on  the  point  of  asking  if  the  good  lady  expected 
two  heads,  or  a  pair  of  noses,  when  he  was  anticipated 
by  another  woman,  younger,  and  with  all  the  superiority 
born  of  Council  education  and  the  bicycle,  whom  Paul 
heard  say,  "  they  had  'em  all  manner  of  kinds  up  there  at 
the  Great  House." 

"  I'm  sorry  to  disappoint  you,"  he  called  out  this  time, 
and  the  two  women  laughed  back  at  him,  not  in  the  least 
disconcerted,  for  the  ways  in  this  backwater  of  life  were 
still  patriarchal.  Lady  de  la  Haye  was  the  friend  of  the 
village,  its  court  of  appeal,  and  sometimes  its  judge,  but, 
through  it  all,  acknowledged  to  be  a  woman,  just  as  any 
other  woman,  but  with  a  more  extended  motherdom. 


124  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Marketel  knew  this,  and  the  ease  which  came  from  a 
perfect  confidence  did  him  good,  for  he  was  in  rebelHon. 
There  was  revolt  through  every  fiber  of  his  being;  at  the 
unfairness  of  his  own  position, — at  Victoria's. 

He  plodded  on  up  to  the  churchyard  and  turned  in  at  a 
little  gate  in  the  mellow  brick  wall.  A  path  ran  along  from 
it  sloping  up  to  the  church.  It  was  bordered  by  more  rose 
bushes,  there  were  flowers  between  the  humble  furrows  in 
the  grass,  more  flowers  in  all  the  odd  corners,  while  against 
the  old  gray  church  tower,  a  climbing  rambler  showed  a 
wealth  of  starry  white  blossoms,  and  the  long  arms  of  a 
creeper  trailed  over  the  porch.  Whoever  ministered  to 
death  here,  performed  their  service  amid  beauty  and 
fragrance. 

Paul  came  up  to  the  porch.  Considered  from  an  archi- 
tectural point  of  view  it  was  an  excrescence :  an  arrange- 
ment of  oak  beams,  roofed  with  lichen-covered  tiles,  some 
two  hundred  years  younger  than  the  church  itself,  but 
somehow,  it  was  roped  to,  merged  into  the  stern  stone 
walls  by  its  covering  of  vivid  green. 

Inside,  it  was  provided  with  a  couple  of  benches,  and 
Paul  dropped  on  to  the  shadier  one,  removed  his  hat,  and 
took  out  a  cigarette.  He  was  still  raging,  he  was  still 
smarting.  Love — his  love — the  very  best  he  had  to  bestow, 
was  to  be  sacrificed  to  the  prior  rights  of  a  man  who  was 
such  a  dilettante  about  marriage,  that  all  he  asked  was  to 
postpone  it  as  long  as  he  could. 

Paul  suppressed  a  very  hard  word  between  his  teeth,  and 
even  as  he  said  that  he  heard  a  voice  and  a  laugh. 

There  was  no  mistaking  Billy  Hirst's  laugh.  It  would 
have  been  a  cackle  had  it  been  only  a  little  less  spontaneous. 

Billy  had  evidently  been  paying  a  visit  to  the  Rectory. 
It  wouldn't  matter  to  him  if  he  went  alone,  and  now,  as 
he  came  from  the  house  which  had  stood  there  when  the 
sixth  Edward  was  King,  the  two  Rectory  children  were 
clinging  round  him. 

Billy  was  always  at  his  best  with  children,  notwithstand- 
ing that  in  one  candid  moment  he  had  asked  Roger  if  he 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  125 

could  imagine  him,  Billy,  with  a  little  precious  coming  down 
to  Sunday  lunch — and,  as  Paul  turned  his  big  shoulder  to 
look  between  the  ribs  of  the  porch,  which  were  crossed  with 
that  cheerful  disregard  to  precision  which  makes  the  works 
of  the  medieval  builder  a  perpetual  delight,  he  saw,  not  the 
possibilities  of  tenderness  or  the  promise  of  a  very  human 
heart,  but  the  astonishing  ease  with  which  this  young  man 
helped  himself  to  the  feast  of  life. 

"  D n  the  beggar,"  muttered  Paul. 

Billy  disposed  of  the  small  boy  clinging  round  his  knees. 
The  little  girl  was  more  difficult.  One  small  fist  was  drum- 
ming on  his  head  (Billy  always  averred  it  was  the  hardest 
part  of  his  anatomy),  the  other  white  arm  encircled  his 
neck,  and  the  small  person  resolutely  refused  to  be  dis- 
lodged from  her  perch  on  his  shoulder.  Finally,  and  after 
some  further  argument,  he  bent  and  tipped  the  little  feet 
on  to  the  ground,  then,  with  another  of  his  infectious 
laughs,  he  kissed  the  little  discontented  face,  and  pulled 
the  long  hair. 

"  I  say,"  he  assured  both  children,  "  I  must  be  oflF  now, 
but  I'll  come  back  tomorrow,  and  then  just  see  if  we  don't 
have  a  game  of  hide  and  seek." 

He  ran  down  the  path,  waving  to  the  two,  singing  a 
snatch  of  a  very  gay  ditty. 

Perhaps  nothing  irritates  those  to  whom  life  is  a  stern 
parent  so  much  as  seeing  those  to  whom  she  is  an  indulgent 
one.  Every  step  of  Paul's  career  had  been  a  transition 
from  one  hardness  to  another.  His  mother  died  before  he 
was  six.  His  father  made  as  if  to  throw  himself  into  the 
grave  upon  his  wife's  coffin,  and  married  again  within  the 
year.  There  was  no  place  in  the  second  Mrs.  Marketel's 
scheme  of  existence  for  Paul.  From  the  first  day  she  saw 
the  bullet-headed  little  boy,  with  his  unruly  crop  of  hair 
and  his  stiff  jaw,  with  eyes  that  stared  at  her  disconcert- 
ingly, and  a  power  of  silence,  her  one  wish  was  to  get  him 
out  of  the  way. 

In  time,  as  her  own  children  were  born,  and  proved  to 
be  a  string  of  seven  daughters,  her  dislike  grew  into  some- 


126  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

thing  not  far  from  positive  hatred.  Her  husband,  always 
a  weak  man,  lapsed  into  valetudinarian  ways,  and  fell  more 
into  the  "  anything  for  peace  "  habits.  That  involved  sac- 
rificing Paul,  and  so  Paul  was  barely  sixteen  when  he 
found  himself  an  outcast,  dependent  on  his  own  exertions 
for  the  very  first  necessities  of  life.  Now,  when  he  was 
amazingly  rich,  Paul  rarely  referred  to  these  lean  years. 
He  had  taken  much  of  the  rough  and  little  enough  of  the 
smooth  in  Mexico,  in  Australia,  in  various  places  in  South 
America,  but  one  thing  he  had  always  done,  he  had  always 
kept  his  hands  clean. 

Paul's  honesty  was  not  an  affair  of  expediency  or  good 
form,  it  went  down  to  the  very  foundation  of  his  being. 
The  hard  life  brought  out  all  the  strenuousness  of  his  char- 
acter, and  also  it  accentuated  his  loneliness.  He  had  al- 
ways possessed  a  distaste  for  the  tawdry,  the  second-rate, 
the  blatant.  Many  of  the  men,  and  practically  all  the 
women  who  would  have  come  near  to  him  in  these  rough 
times,  made  him  shut  down  his  finer  self  under  a  case  of 
cold  reserve. 

Fate  had  so  arranged  it  that  he  had  missed  the  school 
link,  the  college  link,  the  link  of  a  profession  or  of  a  pur- 
suit. Of  course,  when  he  came  back  to  London,  with  a 
reputation  as  an  international  financier  at  his  back,  and 
established  himself  in  one  of  those  spacious  houses,  with 
paneled  walls  and  molded  ceilings,  which  are  to  be  found 
in  the  older  London  squares,  his  stepmother  made  ad- 
vances to  him  and  whined  about  the  expense  of  seven  plain 
daughters. 

Paul  arranged  an  allowance  for  her,  signified  his  inten- 
tion of  dowering  each  half-sister,  and  resolutely  refused  to 
see  her. 

Slowly,  shyly,  tentatively,  he  began  to  go  out.  Very 
little  at  first,  and  then,  as  one  invitation  brought  many 
more,  with  a  kind  of  amused  aloofness.  Just  as  no  unciv- 
ilized beauty  had  b6en  able  to  upset  his  equilibrium,  so  now 
no  net  more  skilfully  spread  could  catch  him.  He  derived 
immense  amusement  from  his  detached  estimate  of  all  the 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  127 

pretty  girls,  the  dangerous  widows,  and  the  scheming 
mamas.  The  one  thing  which  gave  him  active  pleasure 
was  intercourse  with  such  men  as  Roger  de  la  Have,  but 
he  always  took  it  for  granted  that  his  real  Hfe — the  life, 
that  is,  of  the  soul,  as  apart  from  intellectual  appraisement 
or  the  workings  of  his  acute  brain, — would  be  lived  alone, 
until  he  met  Victoria  Cresswell. 

The  very  steps,  or  rather  bounds,  by  which  her  indi- 
viduality impinged  on  his  consciousness,  were  entirely  char- 
acteristic of  the  man. 

He  had  been  taken  to  call  at  her  little  house  in  Egglestone 
Place.  He  went  unwillingly.  He  only  stayed  a  few  mo- 
ments, and  at  the  time  he  hardly  knew  what  impression  he 
carried  away.  It  was  not  until  some  six  hours  later,  when 
he  was  going  up  the  easy,  spacious  stairs  of  his  big  house, 
and  stood  on  the  gallery  which  ran  round  to  the  various 
rooms,  looking  down  into  the  bare  hall  below,  that,  in  a 
flash,  Victoria  came  back  to  his  mind,  and  he  saw  her  so 
distinctly  that  it  was  hard  to  convince  himself  that  it  was 
a  trick  of  his  imagination,  and  not  she  herself,  walking 
towards  him  up  the  stately  stairs. 

The  fantasy  set  Paul's  heart  beating.  Love  has  such 
unforeseen  ways.  It  awoke  in  Roger  de  la  Haye's  heart 
through  his  eyes.  It  awoke  in  Paul  Marketel's  through  his 
imagination.  Yet  one  man  was  a  diplomat  (and  intuition 
is  a  diplomat's  most  valued  possession),  and  the  other  was 
a  hard-headed  financier,  whose  chief  attribute  might  cer- 
tainly be  put  down  as  common-sense. 

Paul  Marketel  stood  motionless  while  all  the  clocks  in 
the  great  city  tolled  the  hour,  and  with  that  stillness  about 
him,  which  in  these  fine  old  houses  defied  the  rattle  of 
modern  life ;  with  the  shadows  below  him  and  the  shadows 
above  him,  he  watched  in  his  mind's  eye  till  Victoria  came 
up  to  the  last  step.  Then  he  turned  quickly  and  walked 
up  to  a  pair  of  double  doors.  He  threw  them  back  as  if 
he  were  announcing  a  guest  so  honored  that  the  mere  fact 
of  appearance  was  a  condescension,  and  turned  up  all  the 
lights. 


128  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

The  great  long  room  was  bare  of  furniture.  Its  newly- 
painted  walls  were  long  lengths  of  cold  whiteness.  The 
blaze  of  light,  glittering  out  of  three  great  crystal  chan- 
deliers, reflected  itself  on  to  one  of  the  Adam's  finest  ceil- 
ings. Paul  had  always  meant  to  set  about  the  furnishing 
of  this  room,  and  as  often  had  put  it  off.  What  did  a 
bachelor  want  with  a  great  drawing-room?  he  once  asked 
one  lady  who,  with  more  zeal  than  discretion,  offered  to 
pick  up  suitable  things  for  him.  Now,  all  in  a  twinkling, 
he  saw  that  room  not  only  furnished,  but  occ-upied.  Vic- 
toria was  seated  by  the  fireplace.  She  was  in  some  descrip- 
tion of  high-backed  chair:  her  white  hands  were  lying  on 
its  arms  of  dark  carved  wood,  but  her  face  was  looking 
down  the  room.  She  had  come  up  the  stairs  to  him,  as  his 
guest.  Here  she  was  seated  with  a  welcoming  smile,  wait- 
ing for  him  as  if  his  house  was  as  much  hers  as 
his. 

Paul  looked  on  the  vision  of  his  own  making  and  knew 
what  it  meant.  He  recognized  what  had  come  to  him. 
This  was  love.  He  had  seen  his  woman,  the  one  woman 
in  all  the  world  to  him.  The  conclusion  was  instantaneous 
— and  final. 

Now,  with  his  worship — for  it  was  a  worship,  not  a  mere 
outburst  of  desire — on  the  one  hand,  with  all  the  hardness 
of  his  lot  and  the  tantalizing  certainty  that  he  possessed 
and  was  yet  denied,  on  the  other,  Paul  looked  out  and  saw 
that  Billy  Hirst  was  running  over  the  Rectory  lawn,  instead 
of  walking  out  by  the  drive  as  a  caller  should  have  done. 

In  another  moment  Billy  would  open  the  Rector's  own 
gate  into  the  churchyard,  and  must  certainly  pass  by  the 
porch.  Paul  rose  at  once.  He  would  rather  come  out  than 
be  discovered. 

"  My  hat,"  cried  Billy  as  soon  as  he  saw  the  big  form, 
"  now  if  this  isn't  luck.  You  are  just  the  very  man  I  want 
to  speak  to." 

"  Am  I  ?  "  returned  Paul  stiffly. 

"  You  bet,"  answered  Billy,  with  all  that  gay  confidence 
of  his,  "  I  hope  I  shan't  bore  you." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  129 

The  two  men  turned  together.  They  went  out  of  the 
churchyard  side  by  side.  Billy  was  evidently  at  home  in 
Zouche,  in  point  of  fact  Lady  de  la  Haye  and  he  were  dis- 
tantly connected.  He  had  a  greeting  for  each  woman.  He 
knew  them  all  by  their  names.  Old  Martha,  notwithstand- 
ing the  handicap  of  nearly  toothless  gums,  exchanged  a 
brisk  flow  of  wit  with  him.  One  girl,  with  a  daisy-like 
face,  asked  him  to  be  godfather  to  the  baby  in  her  arms. 
But  on  being  assured  by  yet  another  feminine  acquaintance 
that  he  would  certainly  have  to  kiss  the  mother  at  the 
font — he  promptly  declined. 

Paul  looked  on,  and  envied.  He  would  never  come  to 
this  point  of  ease  if  he  lived  among  the  dear  souls  to  the 
last  day  of  his  life. 

"  I  do  talk  awful  rot,  I  know,"  apologized  Billy,  when 
they  finally  left  "  the  Street  "  behind  them. 

Silently  the  two  men  stumped  along,  until  Billy  proposed 
that,  instead  of  turning  into  the  Park,  .they  should  walk 
on :  and  to  Paul's  astonishment,  the  suggestion  was  made 
in  a  halting  voice.  So  even  Billy,  the  debonair,  could  be 
diffident. 

That  instantly  gave  Paul  the  lead. 

"  You  said  you  wanted  to  speak  to  me,"  he  began. 
"What  is  it?" 

Billy  pulled  up.  He  turned  about  and  faced  the  big  man, 
and  there  was  a  suggestion,  indefinable  but  certainly  there, 
of  the  subaltern  to  the  superior  officer. 

"  I  say,"  he  began  abruptly,  "  as  that  ruby  expedition 
to  Thibet  is  in  the  wind,  I  want  to  say  I'm  your  man." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  asked  Paul. 

Billy  moved  off  one  leg  on  to  the  other.  He  put  his 
hands  into  his  pockets  and  took  them  out  again. 

"  I  mean,"  he  said,  and  the  hesitation  had  come  back 
into  his  voice,  "  give  me  the  job.  It's  just  in  my  line. 
Let  me  take  out  your  expedition." 

"  You,"  ejaculated  Paul. 

"Ain't  I  good  enough?"  shot  forth  Billy. 

"  Good  enough  ?  "  repeated  the  big  man  irritably. 


130  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"Yes,"  returned  Billy,  "straight  out,  one  way  or  the 
other,  am  I  or  am  I  not  good  enough  ?  " 

"  Good  Lord !  "  ejaculated  Paul.  He  moved  aside  and 
switched  off  a  head  of  sheep's-beard  that  had  raised  up  its 
crown  of  delicate,  scarcely  tinted  flowers  from  the  prevail- 
ing green  of  the  bank.  Then  he  poked  his  stick  into  the 
soft  grass,  and  rammed  down  a  leaf  that  had  dropped 
before  its  time  from  the  horse-chestnut  above. 

"  Everyone  knows  what  you  can  do,"  Paul  announced,  as 
he  swung  back ;  "  if  it  comes  to  fitness  I  don't  know  of  a 
better  man." 

"  What's  in  the  way,  then?  " 

Again  Paul  looked  away.  His  face,  with  its  unremark- 
able features,  grew  grim,  stern,  and  that  obstinate  jaw  of 
his  stuck  out  as  if  it  meant  defiance,  as  if  it  would  enjoy 
to  defy. 

There  was  quite  a  long  pause.  Even  Billy,  who  was  as 
dense  about  human  mental  conditions  as  he  was  acute 
about  physical  signs,  such  as  tracks  of  game  in  the  wilds, 
or  the  neighborhood  of  water  in  a  desert,  felt  that  some- 
thing was  passing.  He  looked  up,  wondering,  and  when 
Paul  saw  that  there  was  not  even  the  most  distant  appre- 
hension on  the  face  before  him :  that  whatever  cloud  there 
might  be  on  the  other's  horizon,  it  was  assuredly  not  the 
particular  one  obscuring  his  own  sky,  he  blurted  out  one 
word. 

"  Victoria,"  he  said. 

"Victoria?"  ejaculated  Billy,  "what  do  you  mean?" 

"  What  will  she  think  if  I  let  you  go?  " 

"  She'll  be  only  too  pleased.    Why  shouldn't  she  be?" 

"  There's  bound  to  be  some  danger." 

"What  of  that?"  answered  Billy. 

"  Victoria  must  know  that  it  won't  be  exactly  a  picnic." 

"  You  don't  understand,"  answered  Billy.  "  Victoria  is 
sensible.  She  is  used  to  it.  It's  the  kind  of  thing  I  al- 
ways do.    The  only  thing  I'm  good  at." 

Paul  brought  down  his  stick  with  a  thump — on  the  road 
this  time. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  131 

"  What  I  want  to  know,"  he  cried  out  roughly,  "  is :  Do 
you  think  Victoria  will  marry  you  one  day  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  returned  Billy,  "  I  suppose  so,  some  day,"  and 
then,  because  he  was  a  real  man  at  heart  he  added,  "  I'm 
not  good  enough  for  her,  of  course." 

Paul  shut  his  lips  tight.  If  he  opened  them  to  say  as 
much  as  a  word,  he  would  break  out  into  a  vehement  pro- 
test. He  would  demand  Victoria  from  this  man  who 
looked  on  his  possession  in  so  easy  a  light :  he  would  go 
further,  he  would  give  notice  that  he  would  fight  for  her, 
take  her  by  force,  if  there  were  no  other  way. 

A  bird  rose  up  with  a  sudden  sweet  thrill.  A  breath  of 
wind  stirred  the  leaves  of  the  overhanging  chestnut,  and 
then  the  sun  suddenly  shot  through  its  heavily  leaved 
branches,  and,  dropping  its  light  on  to  the  white  road,  the 
shadows  from  the  trees  patterned  it  until  it  looked  more 
like  finest  damask  than  just  a  stretch  of  heat-scorched 
country  dust. 

That  gave  Paul  time  to  collect  himself.  The  wave  of 
interior  savageness  shocked  him.  He  wasn't  a  primitive 
man  dealing  with  a  primitive  woman.  He  was  thinking  of 
the  most  exquisite  feminine  personality  the  world  held,  in 
juxtaposition  to  coarse  notions.  He  was  lowering  to  earth 
that  which  should  be  placed  as  high  as  the  stars  them- 
selves by  his  own  unrestraint. 

All  the  man's  reverence,  all  his  feeling  for  the  exquisite, 
rebuked  him. 

"  Lord,"  he  muttered  under  his  breath,  "  what  a  deal  of 
the  brute  there  is  in  me !  " 

Paul  Marketel  had  never  had  time  for  nice  tempera- 
mental deductions,  or  he  might  have  comforted  himself  by 
remembering  that  a  solitary  outburst  is  in  no  way  the 
measure  of  a  man.  It  is  repetition  that  points  to  a  fun- 
damental trait,  just  as  one  aberration  is  in  no  sense  the 
indication  of  a  man's  moral  outlook,  while  the  type  of 
women  to  which  he  instinctively  gravitates  is  its  surest 
criterion. 

Another   prompting   came    into    Paul    Marketel's   mind. 


132  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

This  one  made  him  breathe  in  gasps.  It  was  an  insidious 
idea,  it  was  as  tempting  as  it  was  easy,  and  as  practicable 
as  easy.  It  was  fathered  on  the  "  let  a  man's  blood  be  on 
his  own  head  "  deduction.  It  was  presented  to  the  accom- 
paniment of  "  if  a  man  knows  what  risks  he  is  about  to 
run,  whose  fault  is  it  if  he  breaks  his  neck?"  Billy  had 
pointed  the  way,  not  to  a  hunting  expedition,  but  to  his 
own  superseding — on  exactly  those  ancient  lines  of  King 
David  and  Uriah  the  Hittite.  A  dozen  things  were  pos- 
sible with  an  expedition  to  such  an  undiscovered  country 
as  Thibet.  Billy  would  be  constantly  taking  his  life  into 
his  hands,  and  he,  Paul,  would  be  sending  him  there  to  do 
it.  It  was  true,  as  he  had  already  told  himself,  that  Billy 
was  going  with  his  eyes  open,  but  it  was  not  what  Billy 
was  going  to  do,  it  was  what  he,  Paul,  would  be  waiting 
for — actually  hoping,  or  all  but  hoping  for — which  counted. 
It  was  that  possibility  of  an  open  door  to  Victoria  which 
would  be  for  ever  in  his  mind. 

He  pushed  a  hand  deeper  into  his  pocket  and  set  his 
jaw  firmly.  He  knew  then  and  there  that  there  was  one 
thing  he  could  not  do — he  could  not  send  Billy  out  to 
Thibet. 

He  half  turned  to  say  so,  and  then,  strong  as  he  was,  a 
last  impulse  of  temptation  assailed  him.  Here  was  he 
refusing  the  ideal  man  for  his  expedition.  Why?  For  a 
whim — for  a  refinement  of  conscience?  If  Billy  had  come 
to  him,  standing  by  himself,  he  would  have  said,  "  You 
are  my  man,  go  at  once,"  but  because  the  situation  was 
weighted  with  the  most  intensely  personal  element  which 
two  men  can  find  set  between  them,  it  had  been  trans- 
formed from  an  ordinary  business  agreement  into  an  act 
of  personal  treachery — and  he,  Paul,  knew  this. 

He  stumped  along  ahead  with  such  a  set  face  that  Billy 
could  do  nothing  but  follow  on  behind,  telling  himself  rue- 
fully that  somehow  he  hadn't  got  the  hang  of  things,  and 
then,  as  abruptly  as  he  had  hurried  ahead,  Paul  pulled 
up— 

"  Look  here,  Billy,"  he  said,  "  I  may  as  well  tell  you 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  133 

straight  out,  there's  no  personal  reflection  on  you,  but  I 
can't  offer  you  the  Thibet  billet." 

Billy  could  only  stammer,  "  Lord  !    Why  not?  " 

A  sudden  wry  smile  crept  up  on  Marketel's  face. 

"  I've  thought  of  a  fellow  called  David,"  he  said — "  he 
seems  to  have  had  a  prior  right  to  this  situation,  and " 

"  Oh,  never  heard  of  him,"  returned  Billy, — "  but  of 
course  that  don't  matter.     I  wish  you  luck." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Marketel  grimly. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Even  the  most  wonderful  day  has  but  sixty  minutes  to  its 
hour,  and  twelve  hours  between  midnight  and  noonday. 

Roger  walked  through  this  summer  day,  from  the  time 
that  Chi  Lung's  car  passed  out  of  sight  to  the  hour  when 
the  men  returned  to  the  salon  after  dinner,  in  a  kind  of 
bewilderment  of  happiness. 

Neither  he  nor  Naomi  had  taken  anyone  into  their 
confidence.  The  silence  was  Roger's  suggestion — the  out- 
come of  that  masculine  exclusiveness  which,  pushed  to  its 
farthest  limits,  suggests  the  veil  and  the  purdah — but  which 
he  translated  to  himself  as  just  one  day  before  congratula- 
tions, settlements,  and  all  the  material  business  of  matri- 
mony began. 

Naomi  was  content  to  let  him  have  his  way.  The  ac- 
quiescence came  from  her  heart,  not  from  her  head :  she 
had  all  to  gain  by  publicity.  Even  the  least  charitable 
hesitate  to  make  damaging  comments  to  a  man  about  the 
near  relations  of  his  future  wife. 

Yet,  she  was  ill  at  ease.  Her  interior  misgivings  grew 
more  insistent.  They  were  intensified  by  certain  awkward 
events  of  the  previous  night. 

The  fact  was,  Naomi  Melsham  had  walked  in  her  sleep. 
She  had  only  done  it  twice  before,  as  far  as  she  knew,  and 
each  time  it  had  followed  distressful  happenings.  The  first 
occasion  was  after  that  terrible  game  of  chemin  de  fer, 
and  her  mother  found  her  dealing  cards  and  muttering 
about  aces.  The  second  time  had  followed  a  crisis  when 
the  girl  had  passionately  refused  to  be  pushed  into  a 
repugnant  marriage. 

This  time,  she  had  awakened  to  find  herself  in  Victoria 
Cresswell's  room,  with  the  cover  of  her  kodak  in  her 
hand,  and  Victoria  by  her. 

134 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  135 

At  the  time,  she  had  been  too  dismayed,  too  fearful,  to 
find  out  if  she  had  revealed  anything.  Then  the  morning 
had  been  passed  with  Roger,  and  after  lunch  Lady  de  la 
Haye  had  carried  off  Victoria,  so  that  it  was  not  until  din- 
ner was  ended  that  Naomi  found  her  opportunity. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you  for  being  so  good  to  me  last 
night,"  she  began. 

Victoria  brushed  the  suggestion  aside.  Helpfulness  had 
been  so  much  the  predominant  feature  in  her  life  that  she 
did  not  even  say  it  was  lucky  that  Naomi  had  chanced  on 
her  door.  She  merely  remarked  that  she  happened  not  to 
be  asleep — she  gave  no  explanation  of  her  wakefulness. 
She  had  seen  Naomi  walk  in,  and  that  was  all. 

"  All,"  faltered  the  golden-haired  girl,  "  didn't  I  say  any- 
thing?" 

"  Just  some  rubbish — one  always  talks  nonsense  on  such 
occasions,  doesn't  one?"  returned  Victoria.  "  You  kept  on 
repeating  '  Two  keys  will  fit  one  lock,'  or  something  like 
that." 

There  was  no  time  for  more.    The  men  entered. 

Roger  made  no  pretense — he  took  no  devious  course — 
he  went  straight  to  Naomi. 

"  It  is  a  glorious  night,  and  ever  so  warm  outside,"  he 
pleaded. 

Billy  had  slipped  through  the  open  window  already  (four 
walls  always  oppressed  him),  and  he  was  inviting  anyone 
to  whom  it  might  appeal,  to  camp  out  for  the  night. 

Aimee  had  so  far  responded  to  the  invitation,  that  she 
had  followed  him  out  on  to  the  terrace,  so  there  was  ample 
excuse  for  Naomi  to  go  too,  but  she  only  shook  her  head. 
She  knew  what  passionate  words  would  be  whispered  into 
her  ear — all  the  protestations  the  darkness  would  cover. 
She  didn't  feel  fit  to  listen.  Every  syllable  would  be  uttered 
under  a  misconception.  What  she  had  done,  she  had  done 
because  of  the  greatness  of  her  love,  and,  already,  that 
action  was  shattering  the  lovers  of  the  city  of  her 
dreams. 

Armand  de  Rochecorbon  went  to  his  hostess,  and  pres- 


136  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

ently  the  conversation— for  Lady  de  la  Haye  possessed  the 
gift  of  making  others  talk — drifted  away  from  interna- 
tional difficulties;  from  the  movements  foreshadowed  for 
the  future,  and  the  tendencies  of  modern  development ;  to 
fasten  itself  on  such  a  purely  domestic  theme  as  the  re- 
markable precocity  of  Armand's  little  son. 

"  Voyons,  chere  Madame,"  the  Frenchman  declared.  "  A 
child  of  such  intelligence!  Tiens!  The  little  bonhomme 
will  pluck  the  handkerchief  out  of  the  coat  of  papa,  and 
he  has  but  ten  months." 

Paul  straightened  his  powerful  back— the  back  of  a  man 
who  has  carried  heavy  weights  for  long  hours — and  his 
eyes,  screwed  up  under  thick  eyebrows,  grew  misty. 

A  domestic  picture  will  leave  a  man  totally  untouched, 
up  to  the  very  moment  that  it  becomes  a  possibility — or,  at 
least,  an  aspiration — for  himself,  and  then  no  detail  can 
be  too  homely.  Goethe  knew  that  when  he  pictured  Char- 
lotte cutting  bread  and  butter. 

Involuntarily,  Paul  looked  down  the  room  agam. 

Naomi  Melsham,  in  a  white  gown  which  shimmered  with 
a  suggestion  of  moonlight,  would  have  been  the  first  attrac- 
tion to  most  men,  but  Paul  Marketel  had  eyes  only  for  one 
woman. 

Victoria  was  in  black.  Paul  liked  the  women  he  esteemed 
to  appear  in  black.  Not  that  he  was  naive  enough  to 
imagine  that  sable  raiment  was  any  guarantee  of  disinter- 
estedness, but  because  those  who  had  tried  to  make  money 
out  of  him,  or  who  had  offered  him  certain  things  at  their 
own  valuation,  were  associated  in  his  mind  with  glitter  and 
show. 

Like  most  people  possessed  of  much  wealth,  experience 
had  forced  one  observation  upon  him.  He  had  learned 
that  the  woman  who  will  accept  the  least,  is  the  woman  to 
be  trusted  the  most.  He  was  innately  generous,  but  it  never 
occurred  to  him  to  buy  favor  with  gewgaws.  The  man 
who  does  that,  and  who  takes  a  pride  in  seeing  his  bank- 
notes pinned  on  to  pretty  shoulders,  is  generally  ready  to 
repeat  his  experiment  elsewhere  on  the  morrow,  and  he 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  137 

leaves,   too,   under    the    impression   that    cash    down   has 
liquidated  the  whole  of  his  debt. 

Then,  because  Marketel  was  staring  harder  than  he  knew, 
Victoria  looked  up. 

Their  eyes  met,  and  the  involuntary  communion  in  their 
glance  made  the  girl  color. 

Paul  wrenched  himself  round.  It  was  unbearable  that 
Victoria  should  be  shamed  because  he  loved  her.  The 
thought  of  Billy  and  that  ruby  mine  sprang  up  in  his 
memory — yet  even  here  he  was  just,  for  justice  is  a  habit, 
and  what  we  do  habitually  in  placid  times,  we  do  almost 
automatically  in  the  stressful  occasions  of  life.  Billy  had 
asked  for  the  command  of  the  expedition  on  his  merits. 
There  was  grit  then,  after  all,  in  this  intolerable  pro- 
crastinator  where  the  holy  state  of  matrimony  was  con- 
cerned. 

De  Rochecorbon  broke  up  his  angry  train  of  thougiht  to 
ask  if  by  any  chance  the  man  whose  usual  preoccupation 
was  the  financing  of  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  had  an 
opinion  on  the  relative  merits  of  two  patent  foods  for 
infants. 

"No,"  said  Paul,  "  I  am  afraid  I  never  gave  either  of 
them  a  thought,"  and  then,  as  he  was  telling  himself  that 
only  a  Latin,  with  his  acceptance  of  the  things  of  nature 
as  natural,  could  have  asked  that  question  with  just  that 
good  faith — Littleport  threw  open  the  double  doors,  and 
standing  back  against  the  right  one,  he  announced,  "  His 
Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung." 

The  arrival  was  so  unlocked  for  that  as  she  heard  it 
Lady  de  la  Haye  knew  it  must  portend  something  out  of 
the  ordinary.  It  was  certainly  a  reversal  of  settled  plans, 
for  Chi  Lung  had  expressly  stated  that  he  intended  to 
leave  England  the  next  day,  and  the  Celestial,  though  he 
can  lie,  when  he  decides  that  the  occasion  is  worthy  of  it, 
with  an  aplomb  which  no  man  of  European  blood  can 
match,  is  yet  too  finished  an  artist  in  tergiversation  to 
fritter  an  untruth  away  unnecessarily. 

There  followed  a  brief  delay. 


138  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Paul  Mai'ketel  (who  perhaps  because  he  was  the  least 
happy  was  the  most  analytical)  wondered  what  wave  of 
association  made  every  face  turn  as  though  there  were 
danger  ahead. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  had  risen  from  her  seat,  and  Paul  came 
up  close  to  her.  He  had  always  admired  her.  His  sense 
of  what  she  was  passing  through,  of  what  she  was  re- 
nouncing, and  of  how  it  must  hurt  her- — ordinary  as  the 
situation  was — had  made  him  wish  to  be  numbered  among 
those  she  called  her  friends. 

The  Frenchman,  with  the  /?ofr  of  his  race  for  emotion, 
ran  his  carefully  kept  hand  through  his  hair. 

Roger,  maybe,  was  the  least  concerned  of  the  assembly. 
He  was  still  too  happy  to  think  of  a  cloud  in  his  sky.  He 
walked  to  the  door. 

And  so  it  fell  out  that  no  one  had  a  glance  to  spare  for 
Naomi  Melsham.  She  drew  back  nearer  to  the  wall,  as  if 
to  take  advantage  of  any  shadow  that  might  lurk  in  any 
corner.  She  put  one  hand  to  her  side,  as  if  her  heart  was 
beating  until  it  hurt  her.  She  craned  her  chin  until  her  neck 
lost  its  pretty  fulness,  and  became  long  and  stringy.  Her 
mouth  remained  a  little  open,  and  from  either  side  of  her 
nostrils  to  the  corners  of  her  lips  appeared  long,  deeply 
carved  lines. 

While  everyone  conjectured  what  had  brought  back  the 
Chinaman  she  alone  knew.  While  everyone  was  uneasy, 
fearing  possible  bad  news,  she  alone  guessed  precisely  what 
that  bad  news  would  be.  It  was  this  possibility  that  had 
spoiled  the  glory  of  her  day.  Sooner  or  later,  she  knew, 
Chi  Lung  must  discover  the  theft  and  proclaim  it,  but  she 
had  not  imagined  that  it  would  come  so  soon  or  in  this 
house. 

Then,  as  Littleport  looked  back  into  the  hall,  as  though 
wondering  why  the  guest  tarried,  as  Lady  de  la  Haye 
looked  up  at  Paul  (for,  instinctively,  she  appealed  to  the 
strongest  personality  present),  the  little  old  Chinaman  ap- 
peared. 

He  shuffled  through  the  opening.     He  kept  on  until  he 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  139 

came  into  the  very  middle  of  the  room.  There  he  pulled 
up,  directly  under  a  lantern  of  old  Chinese  lacquer  with 
pierced  ivory  sides,  and  the  glimmering  light  came  through 
to  show  the  bent  figure  and  the  face,  set  as  impassively  as 
if  it  were  of  alabaster,  yellowed  with  age. 

Though  his  Excellency  was  usually  sufficiently  careful 
of  the  petty  conventions  beneath  which  the  "  barbarians  " 
of  the  West  hid  their  inferiority,  he  was  still  in  morning 
costume.  He  had  not  even  taken  off  the  long  rusty-brown 
cape  which  he  preferred  to  a  coat.  His  hat  was  still  on 
his  head,  and  as  he  stood  he  dropped  his  oblique  eyes  down- 
wards and  made  no  attempt  either  at  an  explanation  or  a 
greeting. 

In  their  turn  neither  Lady  de  la  Haye  nor  Roger  ap- 
proached him.  They  knew  too  much  about  the  Far  East 
for  that. 

Presently  the  old  Chinaman  straightened  himself — he 
turned,  and  deliberately  marked  who  was  in  the  room. 

The  little,  dulled,  but  still  so-farseeing  eyes,  came  as 
far  as  Paul  and  then  stopped.  The  old  man  raised  both 
hands  to  his  head — he  removed  his  hat,  and  deliberately, 
as  if  it  were  a  ceremony,  he  set  it  down  on  the  carpet  in 
front  of  him. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  shivered.  When  a  mandarin  casts  his 
head  covering  before  him,  then  he  knows  he  is  disgraced, 
and  that  the  invitation  to  "  eat  the  leaf  of  gold,"  i.e.,  take 
his  own  life,  will  not  be  long  delayed. 

"  O  man  of  money,"  Chi  Lung  began,  for  when,  at  last, 
he  found  his  voice,  he  had  put  ofif  all  cover  of  European 
ways  and  gone  back  to  the  spirit,  the  methods,  the  imagery, 
of  the  land  of  his  birth. 

"What  is  this  that  has  befallen  me?  What  is  this  that 
has  come  to  you?  Are  the  spirits  of  evil  angry?  Have 
you  provoked  them  with  your  success,  or  is  it  I  who  have 
forgotten  that  I  am  of  as  little  merit  as  a  cracked  vessel? 
Are  the  souls  of  my  fathers  and  of  yours  turned  from  us 
and  insulted,  or  has  some  debtor  slain  himself  at  your 
doorstep  ?  " 


I40  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Paul  Marketel  walked  up  to  the  old  man.  He  faced  him, 
and  that  silk  hat  was  still  between  them. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  Paul  very  quietly,  "  I  do  not 
understand.     Tell  me  what  has  happened." 

Chi  Lung  looked  up.  The  two  pairs  of  eyes  demanded 
an  explanation,  each  from  the  other. 

"  Lo ! "  continued  the  Celestial,  "  I  will  speak  plain 
words.  The  terms  of  the  navy  loan,  which  you,  O  man 
of  the  West,  offered  to  me,  a  man  of  the  East,  for  my 
august  Master — the  Son  of  Heaven, — are  known  in  Lon- 
don. Our  lips  were  to  be  silent:  our  tongue  was  not  to 
move  in  our  mouths,  and  yet  the  sheets  of  intelligence 
already  have  them  written  out  in  their  unlearned  charac- 
ters, and  what  was  meant  but  for  your  eyes  and  for  my 
half-blinded  ones  is  read  by  the  coolie  carrying  water — 
by  the  loafer  reeling  to  his  poppy  pipe." 

"  Are  you  sure?  "  shot  out  Paul. 

"  I  am  not  behind  a  lattice !  I  am  not  a  woman !  I  do 
not  cry  out  that  I  have  heard  a  giant  when  a  mouse  scut- 
ters  over  the  floor !  "  the  little  man  answered  contemptu- 
ously. 

Paul  bowed  ceremoniously. 

"  Read,  O  man  of  money,"  went  on  Chi  Lung,  and  he 
brought  a  newspaper  out  of  his  pocket  and  thrust  it  before 
him. 

Paul  took  the  sheet.  There  it  was  plainly  enough: 
"  Terms  of  a  New  Navy  Loan  for  China.  The  Well-known 
Financier,  Mr.  Paul  Marketel,  Takes  up  the  Whole 
Issue." 

The  news  was  a  "  scoop  "  (to  use  a  journalistic  phrase), 
at  the  last  moment  before  going  to  press,  for  it  was  hastily 
blocked  in,  and  the  letters  blurred  and  askew.  But  it  was 
evidently  the  outcome  of  exact  knowledge,  not  of  supposi- 
tion or  hearsay.  The  facts  and  the  figures  were  correct, 
and  as  Paul  read  he  thrust  out  his  chin  and  into  his  eyes 
came  sharp  points  of  light. 

He  crumpled  the  paper  as  if  he  would  include  some 
traitor  in  his  grasp.    He  looked  back  at  Chi  Lung. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  141 

"  Someone  has  had  access  to  our  memorandum,"  he 
exclaimed. 

It  was  Lady  de  la  Haye  who  spoke  first. 

"  Someone  from  here ! "  she  cried  out. 

"  Someone  who  was  in  this  house  yesterday,"  returned 
Paul. 

"  This  matter  must  be  gone  into — and  at  once,"  she  de- 
clared, with  a  decision  which  would  have  matched  that  of 
her  late  husband. 

She  drew  herself  up,  and  moved  back  her  long  train 
with  a  steady  hand. 

It  was  then  that  Victoria  slipped  from  the  room.  She 
had  either  to  leave  or  to  walk  up  to  Paul  and  take  her 
stand  by  his  side. 

Women  generally  pay  as  they  go  along.  As  Victoria 
stepped  through  the  window,  she  paid  the  price  for  any- 
thing that  might  be  underhand  in  her  relations  with  Paul. 

Naomi  Melsham  was  the  one  person  who  saw  her  go, 
and  she  knew — for  desperation  lends  a  fine  instinct  to 
deception — that  her  safest  move  would  be  to  follow,  and 
so  dissociate  herself  from  anything  there  might  be  to  come. 
Yet  she  hesitated.  The  very  physical  strength  to  carry  her 
away  was  lacking. 

Paul  heard  the  swish  of  a  woman's  gown.  Roger  heard 
it  too.  To  both  men  the  sound  came  as  a  signal  that, 
metaphorically  speaking,  the  decks  were  being  cleared  for 
action. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  began  Paul,  "  will  you  tell  me  why 
you  have  come  back  yourself  to  be  the  first  to  announce 
this  evil  news  ?  " 

The  old  man  pushed  his  hands  into  his  sleeves.  He 
could  have  given  his  answer  in  four  words — ^but  he  did  not 
mean  to  do  it. 

"  There  were  but  two  copies  of  the  agreement,"  he  mur- 
mured blandly. 

"  Well  ?  "  Paul's  tone  was  short,  he  was  staring  hard 
at  the  unsmiling  eyes.  Chi  Lung  gave  him  back  stare  for 
stare. 


142  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  /  used  the  learned  characters  of  my  country." 

Paul  suddenly  understood. 

"  You  come  here  to  insinuate  that  /  am  at  the  bottom 
of  the  theft,"  he  cried  out, 

Chi  Lung  made  a  deprecatory  movement. 

"  You  think  that  I  sold  a  copy  of  the  agreement  to  the 
press,"  Marketel  went  on.  He  threw  back  his  head.  The 
accusation  was  so  absurd  that  he  was  almost  amused  by  it. 

"  It  must  have  escaped  his  Excellency's  mind,"  he  said 
(and  he  addressed  Lad}^  de  la  Haye),  "that  I  have  all  to 
lose  and  nothing  to  gain  by  this  publication.  Besides,"  and 
here  he  rapped  the  newspaper  wrathf  ully,  "  his  Excellency 
forgets.  The  exact  terms  of  the  loan  were  inserted  in  hu 
copy  only — in  mine  they  were  left  blank.  The  figures 
given  here  are  correct,  I  assure  his  Excellency  I  carry 
my  copy  on  me,  and  I  give  him  my  word— the  word  of 
Paul  Marketel  is  usually  considered  as  good  as  his  bond — 
that  it  has  not  left  my  possession  since  our  last  meeting." 

The  little  old  man  bowed.  Pie  dropped  his  eyes  on  to 
the  ground.  He  was  evidently  ruminating  on  what  he  had 
heard. 

Paul's  reasoning  had  seemed  so  conclusive  that  Lady  de 
la  Haye  watched  Chi  Lung  closely.  She  felt  sure  that  his 
nice  acumen  would  demonstrate  to  him  that  whoever  might 
be  the  traitor  it  was  not  Paul  Marketel:  and  then,  as  she 
watched  she  saw  the  old  man  bend  lower  and  lower.  He 
seemed  to  be  making  his  small  body  smaller,  leaner  still. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  Paul  went  on  sharply,  "  has  your 
memorandum  ever  been  out  of  your  possession?" 

Instead  of  a  reply  there  followed  a  pause.  Paul  waited, 
and  his  face  grew  sterner.  Lady  de  la  Haye  waited,  but 
she  grew  more  troubled.  At  length,  when  Armand  was 
breathing  sharply  with  excitement,  and  Roger's  whole 
frame  was  stiflfened  with  wonder  as  to  what  might  be  to 
follow,  the  old  Chinaman  looked  up. 

"  Honorable  man  of  many  ingots,"  he  began  suavely, 
"  your  words  bring  balm  to  my  distressed  spirit.  I  have 
heard  the  truthful  reasoning,  and  my  soul  is  assured  that 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  US 

your  memorandum  has  not  chattered  as  if  it  had  a  woman's 
tongue.  I  came  like  a  fool— and  I  have  found  but  my  own 
foolishness— I  go  forth  to  trail  my  gray  head  in  the  dust." 
He  pulled  himself  up.  made  a  curious  movement  which 
reminded  Lady  de  la  Haye  of  the  Celestial's  homage  of 
casting  incense  on  the  shrine  of  the  honored  dead,  and  then, 
turning  aside,  his  Excellency  prepared  to  leave  Zouche  as 
abruptly  as  he  had  arrived. 

"  But,  your  Excellency,"  protested  Roger's  mother,  "  I 
do  not  understand." 
"  Mais  c'est  epatant,"  declared  Armand. 
It  was  Paul  Marketel  who  intervened. 
"  Your  Excellency,"  he  announced,  "  you  cannot  come 
here  and  accuse  me  of  being  a  thief,  and  then,  because  I 
have  shown  you  the  absurdity  of  the  charge,  say  you  are 
satisfied  and  take  your  leave — that  settles  nothing.     If  I 
did  not  sell  the  memorandum  to  the  press,   someone  else 
did.     Who  did?    We  have  got  to  find  that  out." 

"  Barbarian,"  retorted  Chi  Lung,  "  why  will  you  meddle  ? 
Your  stream  runs  clear,  what  is  it  to  you  if  filth  wells  out 
from  another  fountain  ?  " 

Paul  moved  right  up  till  he  all  but  touched  the  little  man. 
"  Your   Excellency,"   he   demanded,   "  will   you  give  me 
your  word  that  your  copy  was  never  out  of  your  posses- 
sion?" 

"My  word?"  retorted  Chi  Lung.  "Man  of  no  father, 
and  the  son  of  who  knows  whom  for  a  mother,  learn  that 
Chi  Lung  is  answerable  to  no  one  but  his  own  Master — the 
glorious  Son  of  Heaven." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  sank  into  a  chair.  She  was  trembling 
from  head  to  foot.  The  old  Chinaman,  instead  of  acced- 
ing to  this  most  natural  request,  had  retorted  with  a  phrase 
which,  from  a  Chinaman,  amounted  to  a  calculated  and 
deadly  insult. 

She  looked  at  Paul,  and  Paul  had  put  on  that  impassive 

face  which  made  him  seem  as  if  he  were  a  man  of  stone. 

"  Your   Excellency,"    he   said    slowly    and   very   quietly, 

"  you  have  gone  out  of  your  way  to  insult  me.     I  do  not 


144  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

resent  your  uncalled-for  expressions.  I  am  only  sorry 
for  you,  for  I  can  assure  you  that  whether  you  wish  to  or 
no,  there  are  certain  questions  which  I  intend  you  to 
answer." 

The  old  man  heard  the  challenge.  He  was  being  rated 
as  if  he,  the  Special  Envoy  of  the  Son  of  Heaven,  could 
be  commanded,  coerced,  and,  rarely  as  any  light  came  into 
his  old,  eyes,  they  blazed  now.  None  the  less,  he  merely 
bowed  and  made  another  attempt  to  turn  away,  but  Paul 
Marketel  followed.  He  was  holding  on  to  his  point  as 
tenaciously  as  a  bulldog  holds  on  to  its  prey. 

Suddenly  Roger  anticipated  him. 

"  Mother — Paul — "  he  cried  out,  "  don't  you  see — his 
Excellency  is  trying  to  shield  me?" 

"You?"  cried  out  a  new  voice,  almost  as  quickly,  and 
the  tone  was  shrill  in  its  evident  dismay.  "  You  ?  What 
have  you  to  do  with  this  ?  " 

It  was  Naomi  Melsham  who  spoke.  She  hurried  out 
from  the  shadow  of  the  curtain  and  there  was  urgency  in 
her  face — in  her  voice — in  her  jerking,  swift  walk. 

Roger  went  to  her  at  once. 

"  I  was  with  his  Excellency  and  Paul  yesterday,"  he 
explained.  "  I  was  watching  the  negotiations  on  behalf  of 
the  British  Government." 

"  You  ? "  Naomi  repeated,  "  you  were  in  the  Chinese 
Room  too " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Roger,  "  his  Excellency  knows — I  left 
again  by  the  garden  door,  after " 

He  broke  off.  He  looked  at  his  mother  with  a  trapped 
air.    He  looked  at  Marketel. 

"  Paul,"  he  went  on,  "  have  you  forgotten — his  Excel- 
lency's copy  was  left  in  my  keeping?" 

The  momentous  admission  rang  into  the  room.  Amabelle 
was  too  versed  in  diplomatic  procedure  to  have  the  least 
doubt  as  to  what  this  would  imply. 

Paul  stood  still.  Armand  was  motionless  for  once.  Only 
the  old  Chinaman  shuffled  softly  towards  Roger  as  Naomi 
spoke  again. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  145 

"  Roger,"  she  gasped,  and  she  swayed  as  she  stood  there 
— "  but  you — you  told  me  you  were  going  to  Chipley 
Magna." 

"  A  diplomatic  fiction,"  Roger  answered,  and  already  his 
tone  was  weary — "  I  was  present  all  the  while." 

He  disengaged  her  fingers  and  stepped  aside.  He  saw 
where  all  this  was  leading.  The  Foreign  Office  had  selected 
him  to  watch  the  negotiations:  they  had  made  an  urgent 
point  of  secrecy :  yet  not  only  had  the  terms  of  the  loan 
been  made  public,  but  the  betrayal  had  obviously  been 
effected  while  the  memorandum  was  confided  to  his  care. 

In  that  very  first  moment  he  knew  what  consequences 
would  follow.  There  would  be  an  inquiry.  He  would  be 
held  guilty  of  gross  carelessness  even  if  he  were  exonerated 
from  the  actual  theft.  Moreover,  he  would  not  be  given 
a  second  chance — the  rising  diplomat  of  the  morning  was 
a  young  man  ruined  now — condemned  to  deponabilite 
because  he  had  let  down  his  Government,  had  diminished 
its  prestige  and  given  the  enemy  cause  to  jeer. 

He  waited  a  moment,  with  all  these  bitter  certainties 
surging  through  his  mind — then  he  bit  his  lip  as  if  he  were 
stabbed  by  a  sudden  pain.  He  had  caught  again  a  glimpse 
of  Naomi,  and  to  him,  her  drawn  face,  her  staring  eyes, 
could  have  but  one  meaning — she  was  realizing  how  the 
evidence  was  going  against  him — perhaps  she  was  condemn- 
ing him — perhaps  she  was  wondering  how  she  could  have 
been  so  deceived  in  him. 

He  wanted  to  cry  out  to  her.  He  wanted  to  ask  her  to 
suspend  her  judgment,  but  he  shut  his  lips  without  per- 
mitting a  sound  to  pass  them.  He  turned  resolutely  to  the 
others.  He  looked  at  each  face  in  turn  as  if  to  intimate 
that  if  he  were  in  the  last  ditch,  he  would  at  least  die  there 
like  a  man. 

It  was  Chi  Lung  who  answered  the  defiance. 

"  Son  of  the  Venerable  and  Beloved,"  the  old  man  im- 
plored, "  could  not  the  strings  of  your  tongue  have  been 
still?  Son  of  him  with  a  heart  as  flawless  as  a  crystal  from 
the  Great  Mountains,  could  not  you  have  recollected  that 


146  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

speech  is  for  all  the  world — that  silence  is  for  your  own 
heart?" 

The  wailing  tones  ceased.  Each  one  present  in  the  room 
felt  that  the  old  Chinaman  had  expressed  something  which 
lay  unvoiced,  unaccepted,  in  each  of  their  minds — but  still 
there. 

Suddenly  Roger  hastened  to  the  center  of  the  room.  The 
light  from  the  lantern  fell  on  him,  it  showed  that  hunted 
look  already  drawing  down  his  mouth,  already  changing 
the  expression  of  his  eyes. 

"  Mother,"  he  began,  and  he  spoke  in  a  low,  tense  tone, 
not  as  a  hurried  assertion,  but  as  a  reasoned  statement — 
"  I  must  tell  you  what  his  Excellency  has  not — his  copy 
of  the  memorandum  was  left  in  my  desk  all  the  evening — 
I  gave  it  back  to  him  about  midnight." 

"But  why?"  gasped  Lady  de  la  Haye,  and  she  looked 
at  the  old  Celestial — "  why  did  your  Excellency  leave  it 
there?" 

This  time  the  old  man  would  take  no  further  part  in  the 
discussion.  He  had  done  his  utmost — for  the  present — and 
it  had  been  of  no  avail.  As  an  exhibition  of  Western 
plain  speaking — unnecessary  plain  speaking  his  Excellency 
held — Roger's  behavior  was  so  exasperating  to  him,  that 
tacitly  he  withdrew,  and  passed  the  question  over  to  him 
who  would  play  a  losing  game  with  all  the  cards  on  the 
table.     Roger  required  no  further  prompting. 

"  The  memorandum  was  left  for  me  to  translate  for  the 
Foreign  Office.  You  see,"  he  explained  in  a  dull  voice, 
"  being  in  Chinese  characters,  it  seemed  perfectly  safe  to 
leave  it  in  my  desk." 

"  Tiens !  "  cried  out  Armand  impulsively,  "  then  any — 
any  other  one  who  copied  it — he,  too — must  read  the 
Chinese." 

"  Yes !    Yes !  "   thrust   in   Naomi   breathlessly,   "  it   was 

written  in  Chinese — and "    She  broke  off  sharply  as  the 

swift  realization  came  to  her  of  what  these  words  implied. 
But  there  was  such  an  urgency  in  her  voice  that  the  old 
Chinaman  moved  round.     He   deliberately   examined  the 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  147 

beautiful  girl — and  from  this  point  onwards,  he  was  always 
careful  to  keep  her  in  view.  Her  exclamation  had  passed 
without  notice  from  everyone  else,  but  then,  Chi  Lung 
alone  disliked  her,  and  there  is  no  searchlight  more  power- 
ful than  aversion. 

"  But,"  objected  Marketel,  keeping  steadily  to  the  point 
under  examination,  "  let's  get  this  clear,  Roger.  Do  any 
of  us  here  understand  Chinese  ?  " 

There  was  a  moment's  deathly  pause. 

"  Ma  foi,"  remarked  Armand,  with  a  stillness  that  was 
ominous  in  itself — "  I  do  not  understand  it." 

"  Nor  L"  contributed  Marketel  shortly. 

"  Persian's  my  limit,"  Billy  announced. 

It  was  Amabelle  de  la  Haye  who  clutched  her  son's 
sleeve. 

"  Roger !  "  she  cried  out,  and  the  word  seemed  to  be 
pressed  through  her  lips  by  something  stronger  than  her 
own  will. 

Roger  drew  himself  up  and  stepped  a  pace  forward.  His 
friends  were  waiting  for  a  word  from  him.  Their  faces 
showed  what  they  expected  that  word  to  be. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  no  one  could  deal  with  his  Excellency's 
copy  who  does  not  understand  the  language — and  I — I 
alone  in  the  house  can  read  Chinese." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  must  have  known  that  this  was  the  only 
truthful  answer  her  son  could  give :  each  of  his  men  friends 
must  have  known  it  too,  but  his  mother  sank  aside  and 
his  friends  looked  at  each  other  with  that  dumb  consterna- 
tion which  a  man  does  betray  when  he  is  up  against  hope- 
lessness of  a  certain  kind. 

Suddenly  Naomi  began  to  sway.  Her  knees  shook  under 
her.  She  had  caught  Chi  Lung's  eyes  fixed  on  her,  and 
the  look  was  so  malignant  that  she  retreated  down  the 
room,  right  back  towards  the  windows.  What  the  old  man 
deduced — what  that  keen  mind  had  guessed  in  its  moment 
of  illumination,  no  one  was  ever  to  know.  But  suddenly 
he  startled  them  all  by  giving  vent  to  a  low,  prolonged 
chuckle. 


h8  the  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Lady  de  la  Haye  made  a  movement  to  go  over  to  the  old 
man — as  if  she  feared  the  stroke  had  been  too  heavy  for 
him,  but  with  her  first  glimpse  of  his  face  she  stopped 
short. 

"  Your  Excellency !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  you  see  some  light 
in  the  darkness?  " 

Chi  Lung  waved  her  away.  He  shook  his  head.  "  I 
grow  old,"  he  muttered.  "  When  the  teeth  fall  out  the 
tongue  wags  loose." 

He  turned  about — ghuffled  aside. 

No  one  had  seen  Naomi  Melsham  but  himself,  and  he 
was  fixing  her  face  in  his  mind.  Not  a  line  on  it — not  the 
circles  that  had  suddenly  come  up  under  the  eyes,  nor  the 
eyes  themselves — rounds  of  staring,  starting  dismay — 
escaped  him.  He  saw  the  graceful  figure,  with  its  shim- 
mering draperies,  blot  itself  out,  as  it  were,  behind  the 
curtain,  and  then  he  drew  up  his  head. 

"Behold!"  he  announced,  "the  wrath  of  honest  men 
gives  the  thief  time  to  arrange  his  face " 

And  having  made  that  cryptic  comment,  his  Excellency 
marched  determinedly  from  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Almost  every  woman,  at  any  rate  every  woman  whose 
days  have  been  lived  among  the  alarms  and  perils  of 
empire  making,  as  she  grows  older  and  looks  back,  can 
give  definite  dates  for  the  distinct  epochs  of  her  Hfe.  Here, 
irresponsibility  fled  and  responsibility  took  its  place :  there, 
youth  was  quenched  and  maturity  began. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  was  no  exception  to  this  rule,  she  could 
look  back  on  several  transformations.  The  first  distinct 
one  was  the  terrible  time  just  before  Roger  was  born, 
when  Sir  Arthur  was  offered  a  mission  of  great  danger. 
As  a  servant  of  his  country,  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  could 
not  shrink  from  it,  and  his  young  wife  sat  hour  after  hour 
in  a  foreign  house,  in  a  foreign  land,  waiting  for  the 
birth  of  her  child,  striving  for  composure,  for  calmness, 
while  by  day,  by  night,  was  always  in  the  background  of 
her  mind  the  certainty  of  the  perils  her  husband  had  to 
face,  the  dread,  the  hideous  dread  that  not  only  might  he 
be  made  a  prisoner  by  barbarians,  but  that  once  in  their 
hands  he  might  be  done  to  death  inch  by  inch. 

There  had  been  other  times  of  stress,  of  familiar  walking 
with  death  and  disaster,  but  no  anguish  of  mind  had  ever 
seemed  to  the  beautiful  woman  with  the  white  hair  at  all 
comparable  to  that  she  endured  in  the  hours  that  followed 
Chi  Lung's  return  to  Zouche  de  la  Haye.  Whatever  there 
had  been  previously,  there  had  at  least  never  been  even  a 
suspicion  of  dishonor.  It  was  this  dishonor  that  appalled 
Roger's  mother. 

Her  guests  had  left  her  as  soon  as  they  could  after  the 
moment  when  Roger  admitted  that  he  alone  knew  Chinese. 

Chi  Lung  had  glided  out  through  the  windows  on  to  the 
terrace,  and  afLer  that  he  seemed  to  vanish.     The  other 

149 


150  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

men  had  taken  themselves  off — Billy  with  an  almost 
sheepish  air,  De  Rochecorbon  lost  in  a  wealth  of  interjec- 
tions. Only  Paul  Marketel,  the  next  sufferer  after  herself, 
had  stayed  behind  in  the  salon. 

It  was  quite  a  long  time  after  they  were  left  alone  before 
he  spoke.    Then  he  came  up  to  Lady  de  la  Haye's  side. 

"  Take  courage,"  he  advised,  a  soft  note  in  his  big  voice, 
"  Roger  will  be  cleared  somehow." 

He  stood  thinking,  while  Lady  de  la  Haye  with  tears  in 
her  eyes  tried  to  smile  at  him. 

"  Chi  Lung  has  something  up  his  sleeve,"  Paul  went  on. 
"  I  did  not  understand  what  he  was  driving  at,  but  an 
Oriental  does  not  let  his  suavity  go  and  hurl  insults  for 
the  mere  pleasure  of  relieving  his  feelings." 

"  I  know  it  was  part  of  the  repayment  of  the  debt  we 
spoke  about,"  answered  Sir  Arthur's  widow.  "  Directly 
Chi  Lung  saw  that  events  seemed  to  be  incriminating 
Roger,  he  endeavored  to  take  the  blame  on  himself.  In 
China,  justice  is  always  more  or  less  vicarious.  Any  head 
will  do  as  long  as  there  is  a  head  forthcoming.  Chi  Lung 
proposed  himself  as  a  scapegoat,  and  you,  with  your  Eu- 
ropean notion  of  making  the  punishment  fit  the  crime, 
insisted  on  finding  the  real  culprit,  instead  of  being  satis- 
fied with  any  expiation." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  broke  off  with  a  dreary  laugh. 

"  It  is  the  everlasting  difference  between  East  and  West," 
she  added  with  a  catch  in  her  voice. 

Paul  Marketel  smiled  gravely.  He  took  a  turn  up  the 
room — another  down  again. 

"  The  man  who  could  offer  up  himself,"  he  said,  "  is 
not  the  man  to  let  Sir  Arthur's  son  labor  under  an  unjust 
suspicion.  We  knov/  that  Roger  was  incapable  of  selling 
the  memorandum,  and  therefore  Chi  Lung  will  set  about 
seeing  that  he  is  cleared." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  returned  his  glance. 

"  Chi  Lung  will  never  rest  until  he  knows  everything," 
she  answered. 

"  I  shall  go  to  him  tomorrow,"  Marketel  said.    "  I  shall 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  151 

put  myself  under  him,  I  shall  work  under  him.    We  shall 
clear  Roger,  you  will  see." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  thanked  the  big  man  for  his  determina- 
tion. Paul  lighted  a  cigarette  and  stepped  out  on  to  the 
terrace.  The  white-haired  woman  went  up  to  the  room 
she  had  always  used  since  Zouche  was  rebuilt.  It  com- 
prised the  half-circle  of  the  western  turret.  The  curve 
was  set  with  five  little  windows  so  arranged  that  the  sun 
came  in  first  through  one,  and  then  through  the  other, 
almost  from  the  first  moment  to  the  last  that  it  was  up  in 
the  heavens. 

And,  as  Lady  de  la  Haye  dismissed  her  maid,  Paul 
Marketers  words  echoed  in  her  mind.  He  had  spoken 
them  to  comfort  her.  Sooner  or  later,  he  affirmed,  Roger 
must  be  cleared.  But  he  had  forgotten  one  thing.  There 
must  be  an  interval,  longer  or  shorter,  while  Roger  lay 
under  suspicion.  If  his  mother  knew  anything  of  such 
thefts,  and  she  had  heard  of  others  analogous,  it  would  be 
longer,  not  sooner,  before  the  matter  would  be  cleared  up. 
The  thief  must  have  been  as  astute  as  those  of  his  or  her 
class  are  bound  to  be.  It  might,  therefore,  be  years  while 
Roger  was  forced  to  idle  without  an  occupation,  with  his 
ambitions  thwarted,  with  his  career  cut  short.  For,  of 
course,  with  this  suspicion  hanging  over  him,  it  was  almost 
a  question  of  hours  until  Sir  Arthur's  son  was  called  on  to 
resign — if  even  he  was  allowed  that  mercy,  and  not  pub- 
licly dismissed. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  sank  into  her  chair,  as  the  picture  of 
what  was  bound  to  ensue  rose  up  in  her  mind.  She  had 
lived  too  long  among  the  limited  world  of  diplomacy  not 
to  know  how  the  story  would  be  bandied  from  chancellory 
to  chancellory,  how  one  confrere  would  pity,  another  de- 
ride, a  third  sneeringly  remark  that  there  was  bound  to  be 
a  woman  in  it  somewhere.  She  could  fancy  how  it  would 
be  whispered  about  over  the  teacups,  referred  to — dis- 
creetly— as  the  champagne  went  round.  The  mere 
thought  of  all  this  and  so  much  more  smirching  her 
boy's  fair  fame,  sullying  his  youth,  and  searing  his  soul, 


152  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

seemed  to  Amabelle  de  la  Haye  more  than  she  could  bear. 

She  started  up.  She  did  not  know  where  she  was  going 
or  what  she  was  intending  to  do.  It  was  a  blind  impulse 
to  take  action,  no  matter  of  what  kind,  and  then  she  sud- 
denly stopped  short.  She  listened.  Overhead  in  the  room 
above,  a  room  shaped  just  as  hers  was,  someone  was 
tramping  across  the  floor.  It  was  no  mere  passage  from 
one  point  to  another,  it  was  a  steady  pacing  to  and  fro. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  understood.  Roger  was  suffering  as 
she  was,  even  more  than  she  was.  He  was  young,  and 
youth  will  have  it  that  life  has  not  only  endless  potentiali- 
ties, but  that  it  has  a  right  to  happiness  as  well.  He  had 
hitherto  been  so  successful  that  this  must  have  come  as  a 
stinging  blow  on  him. 

Suddenly  the  tears  came  up  in  Lady  de  la  Haye's  eyes. 
She  was  old — middle-aged  at  least — she  knew  that  few 
things  survive  their  illusions  but  love  and  integrity. 

The  impulse  was  to  go  up  to  her  only  child.  But  Ama- 
belle de  la  Haye  owed  almost  all  the  influence  of  her  life 
to  her  power  of  putting  herself  in  other  people's  places. 
She  understood  that  if  Roger  had  wanted  her,  he  would 
have  come  to  her.  She  understood  that  to  intrude  on  him, 
to  ofTer  sympathy,  would  not  be  a  consolation  but  an  in- 
discretion. 

She  stopped  short.  Yet  another  thought  struck  her. 
How  would  this  affect  Roger's  relations  with  Naomi  Mel- 
sham?  Not  two  hours  ago  she  had  been  very  near  to 
deploring  her  boy's  choice,  now,  if  Naomi  withdrew,  she 
felt  that  it  would  be  a  base  thing. 

She  stood  still  quite  a  long  time.  Above,  the  tramping 
to  and  fro  never  paused,  within  the  room  was  a  heavy 
dull  silence. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  shivered.  In  common  with  all  people 
who  have  lived  in  earthquake  countries,  she  took  particular 
notice  of  atmospheric  changes.  Now,  even  in  the  midst  of 
her  sorrow,  she  was  sensible  of  the  heaviness  of  the  air. 
The  weather  was  evidently  about  to  justify  the  American 
jibe  as  to  three  days'  sunshine  and  then  a  storm. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  153 

The  tall  woman,  in  the  clinging  garment  of  soft  white 
silk,  with  her  white  hair  in  two  long  plaits  falling  either 
side  of  her  colorless  face,  with  the  dark  eyes  gleaming  out 
of  sockets  defined  and  enlarged  by  the  black  shadows  be- 
neath them,  went  across  to  the  farthest  of  the  little  win- 
dows. She  began  to  draw  up  the  blind.  She  opened  the 
casement,  latched  it  back.  She  looked  out  into  the  park. 
On  that  side  the  night  was  dark.  It  was  a  summer  sky 
deepened  by  a  dull  cloud,  rimmed  with  an  angry  glow  right 
down  on  the  horizon. 

Nearer  at  hand  still,  in  the  park  itself,  the  trees  were 
motionless  with  a  peculiar  stillness.  It  was  as  if  the  com- 
ing storm  had  deprived  them  of  their  power  of  swaying 
about,  as  the  hawk  deprives  the  shuddering  rabbit  of  the 
use  of  its  limbs.  Then,  almost  under  the  window  was 
visible  the  line  of  the  old  wall,  and,  coming  from  over  it 
was  that  faint  perfume  which  testifies  to  flowers  and  culti- 
vated things. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  leaned  out  for  a  long  time.  There 
was  the  tramp  above  her,  beating  into  her  conscious- 
ness, until  each  footfall  seemed  to  strike  a  blow  on  her  tem- 
ples. Presently,  she  went  on  to  the  next  casement, 
she  pulled  up  the  blind  there,  she  fastened  back  this  sash 
also. 

As  she  did  that,  the  stillness  ended  and  a  rush  of  wind, 
cold,  boisterous,  shook  among  the  trees,  rattled  at  the 
windows.  The  first  rumble  of  thunder  followed.  Lady 
de  la  Haye  listened  to  it  and  was  glad  of  the  disturbance 
among  the  elements.  She  waited,  watching  for  the  first 
gleam  of  the  lightning,  which  came,  opening  and  shutting, 
as  it  were,  a  shining  lid  in  the  heavens. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  moved  on  to  the  remaining  casements. 
She  set  them  all  open.  She  trusted  that  the  storm  would 
come  up  speedily.  She  hoped  that  the  lightning  would  cut 
into  the  room,  the  thunder  rattle  through  the  house.  Any 
sound,  any  noise,  would  be  welcome  relief  from  that  un- 
ceasing, monotonous  tramp  above. 

When  she  came  to  the  last  window,  the  one  quite  within 


154  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

the  angle  of  the  turret,  the  one  which  looked  along  the 
front  of  the  house,  she  stood,  with  the  sash  in  her  hand. 

If  she  was  keeping  watch,  if  Roger  was  keeping  watch, 
there  was  yet  a  third  person  keeping  vigil. 

There  v;as  an  answering  gleam  of  light  from  the  turret 
facing  her  own.  Across  the  way,  but  one  blind  was  up- 
raised, and  from  the  space  it  left,  struck  out  a  shaft  that 
seemed  to  glow  against  the  heavens,  with  a  scarlet  bright- 
ness that  fell  out,  in  a  long  straight  wedge  of  light,  until 
it  struck  on  the  pavement  of  the  terrace  and  lit  it  up  with 
great  splashes  of  whiteness. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  knew  who  occupied  the  other  turret 
room.  Roger  had  stipulated  that  it  should  be  apportioned 
to  Miss  Melsham.  Therefore  Naomi,  in  this  the  hardest 
hour  in  the  life  of  the  man  who  was  so  plainly  attracted 
to  her,  was  keeping  watch  too. 

Amabelle  de  la  Haye  turned  abruptly  away.  For  one 
moment  self  and  a  dull  anger  intervened.  Not  even  in  his 
misery  was  her  boy  exclusively  hers  any  longer,  she  shared 
him  with  another. 

Sir  Arthur's  widow  bowed  her  head.  .  She  had  never 
been  so  unutterably  alone. 

She  drew  down  her  own  blind  abruptly.  The  light  from 
her  window  must  not  challenge  the  light  from  the  opposite 
window. 

She  went  to  the  dressing  table,  pulled  off  her  rings.  She 
turned  up  the  electricity  over  the  mirror.  She  looked  at 
herself.  The  sight  of  her  own  face  seemed  to  drive  herself 
into  the  background.  What  had  she  to  do  with  anger, 
with  resentment,  and  Roger  still  pacing  above? 

She  leaned  forward,  looking  at  her  own  image  in  the  glass. 

All  at  once  she  cried  out  to  it. 

"  Even  if  my  boy  is  cleared,"  she  bewailed,  "  who  will  give 
him  back  the  years  that  the  locusts  have  eaten  ?  " 

The  very  next  morning  exactly  what  Lady  de  la  Haye 
had  feared  came  to  pass.  Sir  Aylmer  Brent  telegraphed 
that  he  would  be  at  Zouche  before  lunch. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  155 

Sir  Arthur's  widow  knew  what  that  meant.  Generally, 
the  Foreign  Office  is  more  deliberate,  but  there  are  times, 
especially  if  it  works  unofficially,  when  the  department 
rouses  up  and  acts  with  reasonable  celerity. 

She  knew  equally  that  Sir  Aylmer's  visit  was  unusual — 
a  concession.  Ordinarily,  Roger  would  have  received  a 
summons  to  Town,  or  a  stiff  official  intimation. 

Sir  Aylmer  Brent,  a  middle-aged  man  with  a  noncom- 
mittal manner,  and  the  pale  eyes  that  seemed  to  see  without 
looking,  was  shown  straight  into  Lady  de  la  Haye's  own 
sitting-room. 

The  white-haired  woman,  her  face  already  so  much  older, 
— for  the  well-preserved  fall  before  sorrow  as  ninepins  go 
down  before  a  dexterous  ball — rose  from  her  writing-table, 
at  which  she  had  not  penned  a  word.  She  stood  up  straight, 
silent. 

If  Sir  Aylmer  had  looked  to  see  Roger,  and  Roger  only, 
he  showed  no  surprise.  He  and  the  woman  before  him  had 
known  each  other  for  years.  Sir  Arthur  had  always  de- 
clared that  Aylmer  Brent  had  both  ability  and  talent,  and 
considered  his  resource  and  his  grasp  wasted  by  the  routine 
work  of  the  permanent  official. 

"  This  is  a  bad  business,"  Sir  Aylmer  began,  with  no 
perfunctory  opening,  and  the  abruptness  of  the  words  con- 
trasted curiously  with  the  deliberate  low-toned  voice. 

"  Of  course,  Sir  Aylmer,"  returned  Lady  de  la  Haye, 
since  they  were  to  play  with  vizors  up,  "  you  know  my  son 
is  incapable  of  betraying  the  terms  of  the  Chinese  memo- 
randum. That  is  my  standpoint.  It  permits  neither  of 
modification  nor  deviation." 

The  man  before  her  bowed.  He  showed  a  very  bald 
crown,  and,  as  he  straightened  himself,  he  glanced  but  once 
at  the  face  before  him,  then  deprecatingly  turned  a  little 
sideways  and  dusted  a  speck  off  his  blue  serge  sleeve. 

"  Mr.  Marketel  is  as  sure  on  that  point  as  I  am,"  insisted 
Roger's  mother. 

Sir  Aylmer  smoothed  his  closely  trimmed  mustache  back 
from  his  rather  large  mouth  this  time. 


156  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Is  Mr.  Marketel  still  with  you?  "  he  inquired. 

"  I  requested  all  my  guests  to  stay  until  this  afternoon 
after  your  visit,"  answered  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

The  man  before  her  heard  the  desperation  in  her  tone. 
It  was  as  if  he  were  missing  something,  and  an  official  of 
the  Foreign  Office  does  not  like  to  miss  things. 

"  I  do  not  quite  follow,"  murmured  Sir  Aylmer  Brent, 
very  blandly. 

Amabelle  de  la  Haye  drew  up  her  head. 

"  Surely !  "  she  protested,  "  you  are  not  going  to  spoil  my 
boy's  life  without  taking  the  trouble  to  make  at  least  a  few 
inquiries." 

Sir  Aylmer  looked  at  her.  Not  a  muscle  of  his  jaw 
relaxed,  there  was  not  so  much  as  a  flicker  of  the  scantily 
fringed  eyelids,  and  yet  somewhere  about  him  was  that 
which  suggested  sympathy,  and  moreover,  a  sympathy  that 
was  not  born  of  the  inconvenience  of  the  moment,  but  which 
would  be  enduring. 

He  drew  forward  a  large  armchair,  and  set  it  where  the 
warmth  of  the  sun  fell  on  it. 

"  Won't  you  sit  down,"  he  said,  "  and  let  us  talk  things 
over?  " 

He  seated  himself  opposite,  and  yet,  for  a  very  long  time, 
he  had  nothing  to  say. 

The  woman,  with  her  hands  grasping  the  supports  of  the 
chair,  with  her  head  erect,  with  her  mind  strained  until  her 
eyes  remarked  and  her  memory  registered  the  merest  trifles 
— how  a  fly  buzzed  behind  the  window  panes:  how  the 
Chelsea  figure  on  the  stand  to  her  right  was  an  inch  or  so 
out  of  its  place — waited  too.  She  had  herself  in  hand  now, 
and  as  she  kept  silence  she  began  to  see  what  was  to  come. 
She  knew  that  Roger's  superiors  had  already  held  a  con- 
sultation, for  Sir  Aylmer  had  begun  his  telegram  with  "  I 
am  directed  to,"  and  at  that  consultation,  hasty,  informal, 
as  it  must  have  been,  they  had  made  up  their  minds  that 
her  son  was  guilty. 

"  Sir  Aylmer,"  she  faltered,  when  she  could  no  longer 
bear  this  waiting. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  i57 

"Your  son  had  no  money  difficulties?"  he  demanded, 
ahnost  under  his  breath. 

"  I  can  answer  for  that,"  Roger's  mother  returned. 

The  man  by  her  side  cleared  his  throat. 

"  There  are  expenses,"  he  began,  his  manner  as  indefinite 
as  his  words,  "  expenses,  I  mean,  that " 

Lady  de  la  Haye  broke  in  on  him.  She  was  so  driven  that 
she  answered  the  halting  insinuation  with  the  plainest  of 
speech. 

"  You  mean,"  she  returned,  breathlessly,  "  that  my  son 
might  be  entangled  in  some  way.  You  may  not  believe  me, 
but  I  can  answer  for  that  also.    Besides " 

"  Ah  !  "  thrust  in  Sir  Aylmer.    "  Besides " 

Lady  de  la  Haye  colored.  After  all,  though  she  was 
certain,  Roger  had  said  nothing  in  actual  words  to 
her. 

"  Sir  Aylmer,"  she  began  again,  "  I  seem  perhaps  to 
contradict  myself.  I  implied  just  now  that  I  was  in  my 
son's  confidence.  Now,  I  am  going  to  tell  you  what  is  only 
surmise  on  my  part.  I  am  certain,  had  it  not  been  for  this 
trouble,  that  my  son  would  have  told  me  before  now  of  his 
attachment  to  a  lady  who  is  now  staying  in  the  house." 

The  middle-aged  man  rose.  He  looked  out  of  the 
window. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  must  ask  the  lady'€  name,"  he  murmured. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  gave  it  promptly. 

"  Miss  Melsham,"  repeated  Sir  Aylmer,  as  though  im- 
pressing the  words  on  his  mind.  "  Miss  Naomi  Melsham !  " 
and  as  he  said  that,  the  door  opened,  and  Roger  himself 
walked  into  the  room. 

The  young  man  came  along  with  his  head  in  the  air.  His 
face  was  pale,  his  mouth  set,  there  were  blue  lines  already 
about  his  nostrils.  He  walked  straight  up  to  the  man  by 
the  window. 

"  Sir  Aylmer,"  he  began,  "  had  I  known  you  were  here,  I 
should  have  asked  you  to  come  first  to  my  room." 

"  I  came  down."  answered  Sir  Aylmer,  as  he  turned  and 
looked  steadily  at  Roger  de  la  Haye,  "  prepared  to  receive 


158  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

your  resignation.  That  seemed  the  best  way — taking  your 
father's  eminent  services  into  consideration.  But  now,  I 
should  Hke  to  ask  you  one  thing.  The  answer  may  not 
affect  my  instructions,  but  I  would  not  fail  to  repeat  it,  if 
it  were  satisfactory,  in  the  place  where  it  might  serve 
you.  You,  alone,  know  Chinese?  You  admitted  that  your- 
self?" 

"  Yes,"  returned  Roger. 

"  The  memorandum  in  Chinese  must  have  been  the  one 
copied :  can  you  suggest  anything  yourself  ?  " 

Roger  glanced  for  a  moment  at  his  mother  before  he 
answered.  He  realized  that  once  again  the  magnetism  of 
her  presence,  her  indefinable  persuasiveness  had  prevailed, 
and  that  he  was  being  given  this  chance  because  Sir  Aylmer 
had  been  received  first  by  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

He  had  gone  over  every  point  in  the  case  so  often,  that 
he  could  refer  at  once  to  the  one  possible  opportunity  for 
theft. 

"  There  was  but  one  chance  of  the  memorandum  being 
stolen  to  copy,"  he  said.  "  It  was  left  in  a  certain  drawer 
in  my  writing-table  when  his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi 
Lung  and  Paul  Marketel  went  out  into  the  salon." 

"  Did  you  see  Chi  Lung  place  it  there  ? "  put  in  Sir 
Alymer. 

Roger  shook  his  head. 

"  I  let  myself  out  by  the  garden  door  a  moment  before," 
he  answered. 

"  Had  you  agreed  that  the  memorandum  was  to  be  placed 
in  this  particular  drawer?"  went  on  Sir  Aylmer,  and  his 
voice  never  rose  and  his  manner  never  quickened. 

"  Yes,"  answered  Roger. 

"  Why?  "  inquired  the  low,  deliberate  tones. 

"  Because,"  answered  Roger,  "  that  particular  drawer 
closes  with  a  spring,  and  can  only  be  unfastened  with  a  key." 

"  Which  key  you  had "  rounded  ofif  Sir  Aylmer. 

Roger  colored. 

"  Yes,"  he  cried  out.  "  It  was  on  my  watch  chain.  It 
had  never  left  my  watch  chain,  but " 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  159 

Sir  Aylmer,  still  in  his  silky  manner,  took  up  that  "  but." 

"  But "  he  echoed. 

"  Once,  recently,  that  spring  has  failed  to  lock  the 
drawer,"  Roger  explained.  "  I  pulled  it  open  by  the 
handle." 

Sir  Aylmer  passed  his  hand  over  his  white-skinned  crown. 

"  And,"  he  said,  reflectively,  "  you  wish  to  infer  that  it 
might  have  done  so  again." 

It  was  Lady  de  la  Haye  who  replied  to  that. 

"  My  son  mentioned  the  incident  of  the  spring's  failing  to 
work  to  me,"  she  said  hurriedly.  She  looked  at  Roger,  she 
looked  again  at  Sir  Aylmer.  "  Miss  Melsham  was  with  me 
at  the  time,"  she  went  on,  a  ring  of  agony  in  her  voice.  "  I 
am  sure  she  will  remember  Roger's  speaking  about  it  if 
you  ask  her." 

Roger  put  his  hand  on  to  his  mother's  arm.  The  man  in 
the  blue  serge  looked  up  at  last. 

"  There  remains  the  Chinese,"  was  all  he  said. 

Roger  caught  his  meaning. 

"  And  on  my  part,  Sir  Aylmer,"  he  cried  out,  "  there 
remains  my  word.  I  give  it  you  on  my  honor.  I  am 
innocent." 

The  stout  man  bowed.  He  kept  his  eyes  down.  He 
walked  into  the  center  of  the  room.  He  almost  turned  his 
back  to  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

''  I  must  return  to  town  by  the  12.40  train,"  he  observed. 

Roger  walked  after  him :  came  up :  stood  level  with  him. 

"You  wish  to  take  my  resignation  with  you?"  he  de- 
manded. 

Sir  Aylmer  did  not  look  up. 

"  Those  were  my  instructions,"  he  murmured. 

Roger's  lips  went  white.  He  had  expected  this,  but  when 
he  heard  the  fact  put  into  words,  it  hurt  like  a  blow.  He 
looked  over  his  shoulder,  past  his  mother,  out  on  to  the 
terrace.  There  was  a  strange  silence  about  Zouche  de  la 
Haye.    Even  the  animal  life  seemed  to  be  stilled. 

The  clock  in  the  pretty  room  ticked  on.  No  one  moved. 
At  length  Roger  spoke. 


i6o  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  My  mother  is  very  tired,"  he  said,  "  so  if  you  do  not 
mind  coming  with  me  while  I  write " 

Lady  de  la  Haye  interrupted  them.  She  came  up  to  the 
two  men  with  a  gasping  sob. 

"  Sir  Aylmer !  Sir  Aylmer !  "  she  cried  out.  "  You  have 
forgotten,  there  still  remains  one  thing.  How  could  Roger, 
even  if  he  had  wished,  have  sent  the  memorandum  from 
here  in  time  to  be  printed  in  the  evening  papers  the  next 
day?" 

The  Foreign  Office  official  looked  at  Roger  again.  The 
glance  gave  a  tacit  permission  to  make  the  most  of  this 
argument. 

But  not  a  gleam  of  hope  showed  on  Roger's  face.  On  the 
contrary  he  threw  out  his  arm  as  if  he  were  pushing  away 
something  that  threatened  to  close  in  and  smother  him. 

"  Sir  Aylmer,"  he  answered,  "  I  do  not  care  to  hide  from 
you  that  I  walked  to  Zouche  post-office  yesterday  morning 
before  breakfast.  But  in  any  case,  the  old  postmistress 
could  testify  to  that  fact,  because  I  asked  her  particularly 
if  a  letter  posted  before  eight  would  be  in  London  by  noon." 

"  Roger !  "  bewailed  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

A  flicker  of  a  smile  came  over  the  young  man's  face.  It 
was  about  as  festive  as  a  wreath  of  gay  flowers  laid  on  a 
tombstone. 

"  I  was  excited.  I  could  not  sleep.  I  wanted  something 
back  speedily  from  London,"  Roger  went  on.  "  I  posted 
three  letters.  I  will  give  you  the  addresses  on  them  if  you 
like." 

Sir  Aylmer  Brent  bent  his  head. 

"  Thank  you,"  he  answered,  in  his  smoothest  tone,  "  I 
think  I  need  not  trouble  you  to  do  that." 


CHAPTER  XIII 

While  Lady  de  la  Haye  was  doing  battle  for  Roger  with 
Sir  Aylmer  Brent,  in  the  little  Queen  Anne  room,  his 
Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  had  taken  up  his  posi- 
tion on  the  terrace  midway  between  the  windows  of  the 
salon  and  those  of  the  Chinese  writing-room. 

The  morning  still  showed  the  influence  of  the  storm  of 
the  night  before.  The  brilliance  of  the  previous  day  had 
been  changed  to  a  subdued  tint.  The  sky  was  mostly  gray, 
dappled  with  low,  fleecy  clouds  of  yet  a  deeper  shade  and  in 
the  gusts  of  wind  there  was  a  biting  touch  of  cold. 

Then,  as  chance  and  as  uncertain  as  the  weather  can  be 
in  these  eastern  counties,  the  clouds  lifted  at  one  corner, 
as  if  some  invisible  hand  had  pushed  the  gray  a  little  aside, 
there  was  first  an  access  of  light,  and  then  a  glimmer  of  real 
sunshine,  though  that  sunshine  was  but  pale  and  half- 
hearted. 

The  Chinaman  arranged  himself  at  the  point  where  any 
warmth  there  might  be  fell  on  him.  He  sat  in  a  chair 
pushed  back  against  the  house,  his  knees  were  drawn  up 
before  him,  his  feet  precisely  planted  on  a  footstool,  his 
long  coat  carefully  wrapped  about  his  thin  old  limbs.  His 
head  was  topped  with  the  invariable  silk  hat,  while  over  his 
left  shoulder  he  held  open  a  particularly  large  umbrella. 
Taking  the  picture  as  a  whole,  his  Excellency  resembled  one 
of  those  carved  ivory  images  of  a  mandarin  which  used  to 
be  brought  home  by  seafaring  folk,  to  the  infinite  enjoy- 
ment of  the  dwellers  by  the  hearth. 

His  Excellency  sat  blinking,  with  his  eyes  half-closed, 
apparently  absorbed  in  that  serene  indifference  which  cannot 
even  be  called  meditation. 

Not  a  sound  came  out  of  the  salon.    Victoria  had  taken 

i6l 


i62  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Aimee  into  the  park.  As  for  Naomi  Melsham,  no  one  had 
seen  her.  She  had  breakfasted  upstairs — and  there  was 
neither  a  word  nor  a  sign  from  her. 

But  Marketel  had  betaken  himself  to  the  stretch  of  green 
before  the  terrace.  He  was  pacing  to  and  fro,  with  Billy 
Hirst,  keeping  an  anxious  eye  on  the  house,  and  so  it  fell 
out  that  no  sooner  was  Chi  Lung  seated  in  his  chair  than 
Paul  nudged  his  companion. 

"  Look,"  he  said. 

"  The  old  duffer  might  be  asleep,"  Billy  observed. 

"  As  much  asleep  as  a  cat  when  it  blinks  on  the  top  of  a 
wall  with  a  terrier  prancing  just  below,"  answered  Marketel. 

"  That's  about  it,"  the  other  agreed. 

"  I  wonder,"  Paul  went  on,  "  what  his  Excellency  wants." 

"  Why  should  he  want  anything?  "  Billy  asked. 

"  You  know,"  answered  Marketel,  "  that  the  ways  of  the 
Celestials  are  their  own,  and  generally  as  devious  as  incal- 
culable. You  may  be  sure  that  our  friend  there  did  not  drag 
out  his  old  bones  to  shiver  in  that  wind  for  the  mere 
pleasure  of  taking  the  air." 

"  Can  it  be  to  keep  an  eye  on  either  of  us  ?  "  Billy  sug- 
gested. 

Marketel  shook  his  head. 

"  It's  something  farther  fetched  than  that,"  he  said. 

"  I  tell  you  what,"  he  went  on,  "  I'm  going  to  give  the  old 
fellow  a  chance.  If  he  wants  to  say  anything  to  me,  I'm 
going  to  make  it  easy  for  him." 

He  turned  again,  neither  hurriedly  nor  determinedly,  but 
with  a  desultory  movement,  that  would  have  matched  the 
Chinaman's  own  gait  under  similar  circumstances.  When 
he  was  close  up  to  the  steps,  he  took  out  his  cigarette  case, 
and  with  it  open,  remarked,  in  a  vexed  tone,  that  it  was 
empty. 

Billy  grunted.  However  astute  the  healthy  young  Eng- 
lishman may  be,  there  is  rarely  one  who  does  not  cherish 
contempt  for  a  manoeuver.  Billy  would  have  gone  up  those 
steps  two  at  a  time,  and  dropped  into  the  chair  next  to  his 
Excellency,  with  such  a  thud  that  it  groaned. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  163 

Marketel,  on  the  contrary,  kept  up  the  play  of  indifference 
to  the  end. 

"  What !  Your  Excellency  out  here !  "  he  began  as  he 
came  up  to  the  quaint  figure  half-hidden  by  the  um- 
brel'Ia. 

Chi  Lung  looked  up  slowly,  out  of  narrowed  lids. 

There  followed  a  moment's  silence,  and  then,  maybe,  the 
old  man  concluded  that  there  was  a  certain  advantage  in 
Paul's  presence,  for  he  observed  that  "  It  was  only  in  the 
time  of  ice  that  such  a  wind  blew  in  Pekin." 

"  Poor  old  British  climate,"  laughed  Paul  lightly  Then 
he  put  his  back  against  the  railings  and  waited. 

Chi  Lung  went  on  blinking,  sitting  motionless,  looking  as 
if  nothing  in  heaven  above  or  on  the  earth  beneath  had 
the  slightest  interest  for  him. 

Paul  drew  up  a  garden  chair.  He  set  it  sideways  so  that 
at  one  and  the  same  time  he  could  look  down  the  terrace 
and  yet  watch  the  old  Chinaman. 

The  minutes  went  by.  A  European  would  have  felt  it 
incumbent  on  him  to  make  a  remark,  but  Chi  Lung  had 
no  mind  to  waste  words  for  the  mere  sake  of  making  his 
voice  heard.  Paul  began  to  feel  the  need  of  a  cigarette, 
but  he  dare  not  move.  He  was  perfectly  certain  now  that 
Chi  Lung  was  on  the  terrace  for  some  reason,  and  that  he 
must  find  out  what  the  reason  happened  to  be. 

"  I  trust,"  he  began,  and  purposely  he  employed  an  in- 
volved turn  of  speech,  "  that  your  Excellency's  needed  sleep 
was  not  broken  by  the  disturbance  in  the  heavens  last 
night." 

The  old  man  slowly  drew  up  his  long  yellow  lids. 

"  My  poor  slumbers  are  not  worthy  of  your  honorable 
inquiries,"  he  returned. 

"  When  the  mind  of  the  venerable  is  filled  with  conjec- 
ture," observed  Paul,  "  then  the  strings  of  the  eyes  are 
fastened  back." 

It  was  quite  a  long  time  before  the  Chinaman  replied  to 
this  imitation  of  Oriental  hyperbole. 

"  The  old  often  sleep  indifferently,"  he  evaded  at  length. 


ib4  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Ah ! "  cried  out  Paul,  "  then  your  Excellency  was 
troubled  with  some  new  thoughts  on  this  mystery?  " 

He  turned  in  his  eagerness.  He  set  his  two  hands  on  his 
knees,  bent  forward,  but  the  thin  old  man  opposite  merely 
put  up  his  fingers  (the  little  one  with  the  nail  left  so  long 
that  it  looked  like  a  claw)  and  laid  them  flat  together  against 
his  mouth  for  a  moment,  then,  very  leisurely,  he  began  to 
stroke  his  straggling  beard. 

Paul  was  more  impatient  than  he  cared  to  confess. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  expostulated.  But  all  the  answer 
he  received  to  this  renewed  appeal  was  a  tilting  of  that  large 
umbrella. 

"  I  am  as  sure  as  I  know  you  are,"  Paul  persisted,  "  that 
Roger  had  nothing  to  do  with  the  betrayal  of  that  memo- 
randum. What  his  friends  must  do,  what  those  who  pro- 
fess to  care  for  Roger  must  do,  is  to  clear  him  and  find 
the  real  thief." 

The  old  man's  hands  went  out  with  a  movement  of  mock 
deprecation.  "  Behold !  "  he  blinked,  "  from  the  lips  of  the 
unlearned  comes  wisdom.  Disinterested  service  is  one  of 
the  benevolent  acts  enjoined  by  our  great  Masters." 

Paul  pushed  back  his  chair  with  a  grating  sound,  he  rose 
abruptly, 

"  H  your  Excellency  has  formed  any  conclusion,  if  your 
Excellency  can  suggest  any  course  of  action  or  inquiry,  I 
put  myself  at  your  disposal.  I  shall  be  happy  to  work  under 
your  directions,"  Paul  announced. 

The  old  man  looked  over  the  railing.  He  looked  down 
the  terrace.  He  spread  out  his  hands  again,  and  seemed  to 
examine  each  nail  separately. 

"  It  is  well  to  use  zeal,"  he  remarked  at  last,  when  Paul 
was  all  but  driven  to  exasperation  by  this  play  of  indififer- 
ence,  "  none  the  less,  if  a  man  runs  his  head  with  force 
against  a  spiked  bamboo  it  hurts  more  than  if  he  only  lays 
his  cheek  against  its  leaves." 

"  I  mean  to  leave  no  stone  unturned,"  maintained  Paul 
stoutly,  and  looked  defiantly  into  the  oblique  smiling  eyes 
of  his  Excellency. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  165 

"  Though  a  woman  has  borne  you  seven  sons,  do  not  trust 
her,"  was  the  Chinaman's  next  most  unexpected  contribution 
to  the  discussion. 

Paul  revolved  that  rapidly  in  his  own  mind.  What  could 
be  the  purpose  of  dragging  in  a  discrediting  allusion  to  the 
opposite  sex?  Of  course,  theoretically,  to  the  Celestial,  a 
woman  per  se  is  always  a  damaging  quantity.  Practically 
Eve  is  Eve,  certain  mutations  notwithstanding,  pretty  well 
as  much  in  Pekin  as  in  London.  But  a  mandarin  of  Chi 
Lung's  standing  would  have  thought  it  unseemly  to  intro- 
duce the  feminine  subject  into  a  serious  conversation  by  way 
of  the  relief  of  a  light  touch,  as  a  Westerner  might  have 
done.  There  must,  somehow,  be  a  reason — some  cogent 
reason — to  justify  this  remark  about  the  "  little  old  woman  " 
of  the  domestic  hearth. 

Paul's  mind  naturally  flew  to  the  woman  he  imagined 
to  be  most  affected  by  Roger's  trouble. 

"  I  would  stake  my  life  on  Lady  de  la  Haye's  integrity," 
he  declared  hotly. 

There  followed  a  pause. 

His  Excellency  did  not  move  a  muscle,  and  yet  Paul  some- 
how felt  that  he  was  being  told  he  had  just  said  something 
particularly  foolish.  When  next  he  ventured  a  remark,  he 
was  more  wary.  Chi  Lung  was  pleased  to  be  genial  again, 
but  vague,  and  as  they  talked  on,  each  fencing  carefully 
under  cover  of  what  looked  like  a  string  of  aimless  plati- 
tudes, Paul  noticed  that  the  conversation  still  seemed  to  be 
edging  round  to  the  woman  of  the  party. 

Then  Paul  awoke  to  another  unexpected  circumstance — 
the  Chinaman  was  pumping  him  about  Naomi  Melsham — 
was  asking  his  opinion. 

Paul  answered  evasively.  He  had  a  feeling  that  it  would 
be  disloyal  to  Roger  to  discuss  Naomi  Melsham  with  that 
old  man  of  another  race  who  so  evidently  disliked  her,  and 
then,  as  he  hesitated,  the  girl  herself  lifted  the  blind  of  the 
salon  and  stepped  out. 

As  Paul  rose,  he  saw  that  she  was  very  distressed.  Her 
eyes  were  large,  strained.    The  peculiarly  blue  quality  of  the 


i66  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

iris  seemed  to  be  dimmed.  The  hand,  which  held  her  sun- 
shade, trembled.  The  white  collar,  laid  back  on  a  dress  of 
black  and  white  blended  with  a  curious  shade  of  green, 
fluttered  with  her  uncertain  breathing. 

Paul  offered  her  his  chair  with  a  touch  of  genuine  friend- 
liness. Looking  back  on  things,  he  always  dated  his  par- 
ticipation in  Naomi's  life  from  this  moment. 

"  You  look  tired,"  he  said,  "  I  don't  suppose  you  slept 
much." 

The  girl  nodded  her  head  silently.  She  looked  at  the 
quaint  figure  backing  against  the  wall.  There  was  no  sym- 
pathy there.  There  was  such  hostility,  that,  unnerved  as 
she  was,  she  swung  round  her  head  and  let  her  eyes,  with 
the  tears  so  very  near  to  them,  look  over  the  bowling- 
green. 

His  Excellency  rarely  addressed  a  woman — he  considered 
it  tax  enough  to  reply  when  they  spoke  to  him — but  now 
he  looked  across  at  Naomi  Melsham. 

"  You  look  as  if  your  lips  had  tasted  bitter  aloes,"  he 
began  maliciously. 

But,  before  she  could  answer,  the  sound  of  doors  opening 
in  the  salon  came  out  distinctly  on  to  the  terrace.  Both 
men  heard,  but  Naomi  heard  also,  and  hers  was  the  quicker 
perception. 

She  lifted  her  head,  evidently  listening  with  all  her  might. 
It  was  obvious  that  she  was  awaiting  some  great  decision, 
and  that  she  imagined  it  was  on  the  point  of  being  given. 

To  anyone  who  has  waited  for  some  great  doctor's  ver- 
dict, who  has  listened  for  the  opening  of  a  door,  or  for  the 
approach  of  a  footfall,  this  agony  will  be  perfectly  intel- 
ligible. 

But  at  least,  Naomi  was  to  hear  the  verdict  in  plain, 
unmistakable  terms,  which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of  most 
medical  pronouncements.  Generally,  they  seem  to  be  framed 
for  the  express  purpose  of  adding  the  torture  of  indefinite- 
ness  to  the  anguish  of  apprehension. 

Next  followed  a  word  in  Roger's  voice,  and  the  girl's 
whole  frame  grew  rigid. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  167 

"  Does  she  love  him  so  much  that  it  hurts  her  Hke  that?  " 
Paul  said  to  himself. 

He  read  her  apprehension  one  way.  The  old  Chinaman 
read  it  another.  Paul  had  never  arrived  at  anything  ap- 
proaching a  suspicion,  but  if  he  had,  this  would  have  ban- 
ished it.  "  It  is  impossible  that  she  could  have  had  a  hand 
in  the  copying  of  the  paper,  she  loves  him  too  much,"  he 
would  have  said  to  himself.  It  never  once  occurred  to  him 
that  just  because  she  did  love  so  much,  she  had  been 
driven. 

Within  the  salon,  Roger  was  evidently  crossing  the  room. 
Sir  Aylmer  must  have  been  by  his  side.  They  were  talking 
courteously,  distinctly,  with  that  precise  choice  of  terms 
which  pointed  to  an  underlying  embarrassment. 

Naomi  looked  at  Paul.  Her  eyes  asked  what  this  fencing 
between  the  two  men  might  portend.  Did  it  mean  that  the 
scale  had  turned  for  Roger  or  against  him? 

Then  the  three  watchers  without  heard  Roger  speak 
again.  He  had  evidently  taken  up  the  amethyst  rabbit — he 
was  showing  it  to  Sir  Aylmer. 

"  That,"  Naomi  heard  him  say,  "  is  the  clou  of  the  col- 
lection. But  if  you  care  for  such  things,  there  are  one  or 
two  other  nice  pieces.  Will  you  look  at  them  while  I  write 
out — what  you  require  from  me?" 

"  Thank  you."  returned  Sir  Aylmer,  "  I  will  wait  here. 
I  am  sorry  to  hurry  you,  but  you  realize  my  instructions 
were  definite." 

"  Yes,"  said  Roger,  "  I  understand.  Believe  me,  I  realize 
that,  adopting  the  point  of  view  the  office  evidently  does,  I 
am  being  treated  with  great  consideration." 

Naomi  started  to  her  feet.  It  was  Paul  who  pulled  her 
down. 

"  Keep  still."  he  said,  and  he  laid  his  hand  on  hers,  "you 
can  do  nothing  to  help  now." 

Next,  a  door  closed,  the  door  with  one  panel  for  Autumn, 
and  the  other  for  Winter,  leading  into  the  Chinese  Room, 
as  the  three  watchers  on  the  terrace  knew.  Paul  made  no 
effort  to  hide  his  agitation.     He  thrust  his  hands  into  his 


i68  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

pockets,  and  began  to  tramp  the  length  of  the  terrace. 
Naomi  could  sit  still  no  longer,  she  rose  and  leaned  against 
the  railings,  her  face  as  white  as  if  some  wound  had  drained 
it  of  every  drop  of  blood. 

As  for  the  old  Chinaman,  he  looked  elated  rather  than 
cast  down.  For  no  Oriental  has  defeat  the  permanence  it 
has  for  the  Westerner.  He  who  is  abased  today  may  very 
well  be  up  tomorrow.  Besides,  life  and  all  things  in  it  are 
at  the  caprice  of  Fate.  But  what  does  appeal  to  nim  is  the 
enduring  of  these  caprices  with  equanimity.  Roger  was 
evidently  conducting  himself  in  a  way  worthy  of  a  Chinese 
himself. 

It  seemed  such  a  little  while,  or  was  it  a  lifetime,  and  then 
Roger  himself  came  through  the  window  of  the  salon. 

It  was  the  first  time  he  had  seen  Naomi  that  morning,  and 
yet,  after  one  quick  glance,  he  neither  looked  at  her  nor 
spoke  to  her. 

The  sun  had  struggled  out  a  little  more  fully.  It  was 
past  midday  and  the  breeze  was  changing  to  a  lusty  wind 
which  swept  up  the  terrace  and  promised  rain  itself  in  an 
hour  or  two. 

Roger  came  up  to  Chi  Lung.  He  stood  up  very  straight, 
very  tall  before  him. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  began,  "  Sir  Aylmer  Brent  has 
just  left  Zouche.     He  has  taken  my  resignation  with  him." 

He  laughed  harshly  and  swung  a  glance  over  his  shoulder 
at  Paul — not  at  Naomi. 

"  I  am  a  free  man,"  he  added. 

The  old  Chinaman  sat  as  immovable  as  if  he  were  a 
Buddha  carved  out  of  stone. 

"  I  am  enfirely  my  own  master,  now,"  Roger  continued. 

It  was  Paul  who  cried  out  his  name,  and  cried  it  with 
an  accent  of  entreaty. 

"  I  am  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  ask  you  to  come  and 
stay  with  me  in  Pekin  again,"  Roger  went  on,  addressing 
Marketel  directly,  "  but  I  have  the  world  before  me — I  can 
at  least  go  where  I  please." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  169 

Then  he  moved  along,  and  at  last  he  looked  down  at 
Naomi. 

"  Perhaps  you  do  not  understand.  Miss  Melsham,"  he 
said,  "  my  being  allowed  to  resign  is  a  consideration  for  my 
mother — and  for  my  father's  memory.  All  the  same,  I  am 
disgraced :  I  am  ruined,  both  as  regards  my  reputation  and 
my  career." 

"  No !  No !  "  protested  Naomi,  and  she  made  a  piteous 
movement  with  her  hands. 

"  I  ought  to  be  thankful,"  continued  Roger,  as  if  he 
wished  to  lay  every  possible  stripe  on  himself,  "  that  I  am 
not  publicly  turned  out  of  the  Service." 

Naomi  winced  as  though  she  had  been  struck.  He  saw, 
he  must  have  seen  the  movement,  and  yet  he  went  on. 

"  I  did  not  expect  mercy,  and  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  not 
ask  for  it.  If  I  had  been  guilty  I  should  have  deserved 
none.  I  am  innocent,  but  not  one  person  in  a  hundred  will 
believe  that ;  appearances  being  so  against  me,  I  shall  not 
resent  it  if  my  oldest  friend — or  my  dearest  friend — passes 
me  by,  until  I  can  prove  my  innocence," 

He  turned  about  as  he  said  that.  He  had  marked  out 
his  own  position.  He  had  released  them  all — even  the 
woman  he  loved — from  any  obligation.  He  began  to  go 
down  the  terrace.    Paul  looked  after  him. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Roger?"  he  cried. 

His  voice  rose  and  fell  in  the  air.  It  spent  itself  use- 
lessly. It  was  then  Marketel  turned  to  Naomi,  but  she  did 
not  require  his  prompting. 

"  Roger,"  she  breathed,  "  Roger." 

He  heard  her,  though  her  tone  had  hardly  been  more 
than  a  whisper.  He  turned  on  her  as  if  her  pity  lowered 
him. 

"  Don't  pity  me,"  he  groaned  out,  "  I  will  not  be  pitied, 
I  cannot  bear  to  be  pitied." 

Marketel  sprang  after  him,  but  Roger  shook  him  off. 

"Are  you  afraid  that  I  shall  blow  my  brains  out?"  he 
demanded  brutally. 

Naomi  moved  away  from  the  railings  this  time.     She 


I70  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

threw  up  her  head.  The  Hght  came  back  to  her  eyes,  the 
color  to  her  cheeks.  Her  face  lost  its  pinched  look,  and 
Marketel,  watching,  thought  he  had  not  believed  that  even 
her  beauty  could  be  so  beautiful. 

"  Stop,"  she  cried,  and  for  very  amazement  at  the  author- 
ity in  her  tone,  Roger  stood  still. 

"  Come  back,"  she  ordered,  with  the  same  imperative  ring. 

Roger  hesitated,  he  looked  before  him,  he  swayed,  he 
moved  round,  and  then  he  began  to  stumble  back  as  if 
drawn  by  that  which  was  stronger  than  his  will  or  his 
determination. 

Naomi  went  to  meet  him,  she  advanced  swiftly,  and  held 
out  her  hands. 

"  Roger,  have  you  forgotten  that  I  am  to  count  with  you 
now  ?  "  she  demanded. 

Paul  heard  the  words,  and  a  lump  came  into  his  throat. 
There  was  but  one  woman  in  the  world  for  him,  and  would 
she  ever  identify  herself  with  his  life  in  such  a  tone? 

"  You  don't  understand,  you  can't  understand,"  Roger 
began  unsteadily. 

"  Not  understand,"  cried  back  Naomi,  "  it  is  you  who  do 
not  understand.  It  is  you  who  will  not  see :  who  do  not 
hear." 

She  held  out  her  hands  again.  It  is  doubtful  if  she  so 
much  as  remembered  that  there  were  spectators.  Anyway, 
they  did  not  count.  This  was  between  her  and  the  man 
looking  at  her  with  a  drawn  face  and  darkened  eyes. 

The  wind  scurried  noisily  along  the  terrace.  The  poplars 
in  the  park  drove  their  agitated  heads  first  to  left  and  then 
to  right.  The  noise  of  countless  branches,  of  every  leaf  on 
every  tree  swaying  this  way  and  that,  came  up  like  the  roar 
of  a  mighty  sea  beating  on  a  sandy  shore. 

"  You  must  speak,"  Naomi  decreed.  "  Roger,  don't  you 
see  that  you  must  speak  now :  that  you  must  tell  his  Excel- 
lency and  Mr.  Marketel  what  you  said  to  me  yesterday — 
what  I  answered  you?" 

Roger  shook  his  head. 

"  Yesterday  was  different,"  he  muttered  dully. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  171 

"  There  is  no  diflference  between  yesterday  and  today  as 
far  as  you  and  I  are  concerned,"  the  girl  cried  back.  "  You 
and  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  times  and  seasons.  What  I 
said  to  you  yesterday  holds  good  today :  what  I  was  yes- 
terday, I  am  today." 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  hurried  on,  appealing  to  the  man 
who  she  knew  was  the  most  hostile  to  her,  forcing  him, 
just  because  he  did  dislike  her,  to  range  himself  on  her  side, 
"  if  Roger  will  not  tell  you,  I  will.  If  Roger  hesitates,  I 
glory  in  it.  Hear  me,  and  you,  too,  Mr.  Marketel.  Yes- 
terday Roger  asked  me  to  be  his  wife.  Today,  I  claim  that 
right.  I  claim  the  right  to  give  myself  to  him,  to  be  called 
by  his  name,  to  stand  by  him,  to  love  him  as  he  loves 
me." 

She  fell  back  trembling,  and  then  her  weakness,  for  she 
choked  and  stumbled,  did  what  even  her  appeal  had  failed 
to  do,  it  broke  down  Roger's  stony  aloofness.  He  darted 
forward,  threw  out  his  arms,  and  caught  Naomi. 

"  My  .   .   .  my  wife,"  he  stuttered. 

"  Your  wife,  Roger,"  answered  Naomi  Melsham. 

Paul  Marketel  walked  over  to  the  old  Chinaman  and  quite 
peremptorily  he  rapped  the  lean  old  shoulder. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  neither  you  nor  I  are 
wanted  here." 

He  turned  and  hurried  to  the  steps  down  to  the  bowling- 
green.  He  heard  the  shuffling  tread  behind  him,  but,  just 
before  he  reached  the  steps,  the  small  door  from  the  house 
opened  and  Lady  de  la  Haye  came  out. 

A  less  brave  woman  would  have  pleaded  that  everlasting 
feminine  help  in  trouble — a  headache — and  retired  to  a 
darkened  room  with  a  bottle  of  smelling  salts.  Courage  had 
always  been  one  of  Amabelle's  most  consistent  qualities. 
The  burden  was  to  be  borne,  so  she  would  shoulder  it  at 
once.  Besides,  there  was  Roger  to  think  of,  perhaps  to 
help  in  a  double  trouble. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  had  by  no  means  determined  in  her  own 
mind  what  Naomi  would  do.  For  all  she  knew,  Roger  might 
find  himself  abandoned,  as  well  as  disgraced. 


172  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Naomi  Melsham  saw  the  tall,  white-haired  woman  coming 
along.    She  hastened  to  meet  her. 

"  Your  Excellency — Mr.  Marketel,"  she  said,  "  don't  go 
for  a  minute."  Then  she  turned  to  Roger's  mother.  "  Lady 
de  la  Haye,"  she  said,  "  Roger  and  I  are  going  to  be  married 
immediately." 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Naomi's  announcement  was  so  decisive,  it  closed  one  phase 
of  the  question  with  such  an  unarguable  assertion,  that  for 
quite  a  few  moments  not  only  was  there  no  further  word 
to  say,  but  equally  no  movement  was  possible. 

Then  Paul  touched  the  old  Chinaman  on  the  shoulder. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  we  are  not  wanted  here." 

His  tone  was  so  imperative  that  Chi  Lung  followed  him 
through  the  window  of  the  salon,  with  nothing  more  aggres- 
sive than  a  throwing  back  of  the  old  chin,  and  an  additional 
strut  of  the  slow  walk. 

As  for  Amabelle,  she  looked  dumbly  at  her  son,  and  then 
at  the  girl  who  had  so  courageously  identified  herself  with 
him.  If  either  of  them  had  so  much  as  glanced  at  her,  she 
must  have  held  out  her  arms,  but  they  were  each  absorbed 
in  the  other.  There  was  no  joyousness  in  their  eyes,  none 
of  the  rapture  of  a  great  abandonment,  Roger's  head  was 
hanging  down  as  if  he  were  stunned.  Naomi  was  waiting 
for  his  next  words.  The  one  thing  which  marked  how  the 
man  felt  was  the  twitching  fingers  entwined  within  the  girl's 
fingers. 

So,  standing  thus,  Amabelle  left  them. 

She  went  back  into  the  house,  back  to  the  everyday  duties 
of  a  hostess,  for  the  week-end  party  was  breaking  up — in 
a  very  different  spirit,  alas,  from  the  cheerful  one  in  which 
they  had  gathered  at  Zouche  only  four  days  previously. 
There  were  the  constrained  adieux  of  her  guests  to  receive, 
and  their  discomfiture  and  uneasiness  to  be  tactfully  ignored 
or  softened,  as  each  individual  case  required. 

Victoria  was  taking  Aimee  with  her, — an  inspiration 
which  Amabelle  recognized  gratefully  but  mutely. — Victoria 
could  always  be  relied  on  to  do  the  helpful,  kindly  things 
of  life  in  such  a  delicate  whispered  way,  that  to  give  them 

173 


174  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

recognition  in  mere  words  would  seem  to  impair  their  fra- 
grance. She  attempted  no  awkwardly  phrased  words  of 
comfort  to  her  hostess,  but  her  look  and  manner  were  a 
soothing  balm  to  the  aching  heart  of  the  mother. 

Armand  de  Rochecorbon  was  motoring  up  to  Scotland  on 
a  round  of  country  house  visits,  so  no  one  could  take  advan- 
tage of  his  offer  to  accommodate  all  or  any  in  his  Panhard. 
He  was  singularly  terse  as  he  took  leave  of  Amabelle.  but 
she  knew  that  he  was  among  the  most  loyal  and  steadfast 
of  Roger's  friends. 

"  Any  time — anywhere — even  from  Pekin  to  Timbuctoo 
r— Roger  has  but  to  lift  the  little  finger  for  me  and  I  come." 
These  were  his  final  words,  which  could  but  leave  her  wanly 
smiling,  though  she  was  fully  assured  of  their  sincerity. 

Billy  Hirst  was  the  next  to  come  to  say  good-by.  There 
was  nothing  he  could  do  to  help  Roger  if  he  lingered,  as 
he  explained  ruefully.  He  had  received  a  letter  that  morn- 
ing about  a  new  expedition  on  business  lines,  with  a  paid 
personnel,  which  was  being  organized  in  London.  Being 
poor  now,  he  felt  it  was  an  opportunity  not  to  be  neglected. 
Then  as  he  saw  the  endurance  on  Amabelle's  face,  he  was 
moved  to  say  the  first  thing  which  came  into  his  head. 

"  It's  all  nonsense,"  he  told  her,  "  you'll  see — everything 
will  be  found  out  before  the  week  is  up.  The  thief  will  be 
in  custody  and  Roger  cleared." 

The  sanguine  forecast  cheered  her,  though  she  knew  too 
much  about  international  intricacies  to  hope  that  it  would 
turn  out  to  be  more  than  a  forecast. 

But,  when  Chi  Lung  came  to  say  farewell,  he  left  her 
disturbed  and  dismayed.  His  mask  of  impassivity  was 
at  its  most  impregnable.  He  seemed  to  counsel  delay, 
procrastination,  and  when  she  protested  that  every  moment 
lived  under  the  disgrace  was  a  moment  filched  from  Roger's 
happiness,  the  old  man  merely  replied  with  one  of  his 
Celestial  proverbs. 

"  Much  gold,"  he  muttered,  "  many  bolts.  Many  peacocks 
— more  jays.  Yet,  when  youth  takes  the  scorpion  for  a  bed- 
fellow, the  aged  go  out  on  the  roof." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  175 

Lady  de  la  Haye  was  still  pondering  that  cryptic  saying 
when  Paul  sought  her  out. 

"  I  am  taking  Roger  up  to  Town  with  me,"  he  said.  She 
looked  up  with  a  sharp  surprise,  but  he  went  on  quickly — 
"  I  want  to  tell  you  before  I  leave  that  what  a  man  can  do 
to  discover  the  real  thief,  I  will." 

Amabelle  looked  sadly  at  him.  Everyone  was  so  zealous 
to  help,  but  zeal  without  knowledge  would  avail  nothing. 

Stay — was  everyone  eager  to  help?  She  thought  of  her 
old  friend — of  the  Celestial  counsel  of  inertia — and  she 
was  perhaps  going  to  say  a  word  about  this  to  Paul  when 
Littleport  entered. 

"  I  think,  sir,"  the  old  man  said,  "  that  you  ought  to  have 
this  at  once."  He  held  out  a  thin  strip  of  red  paper  on 
the  big  presentation  salver. 

"  What  is  it?  "  Paul  asked  quickly. 

"  From  his  Excellency,  sir,"  Littleport  returned. 

"  From  his  Excellency,"  Lady  de  la  Haye  echoed. 

She  turned  with  a  sudden  swift  motion  of  gladness  to 
Paul.    Marketel  had  the  strip  of  thin  red  paper  in  his  hand. 

"  Only  his  Excellency's  visiting  card,"  he  said,  as  if  an- 
noyed that  such  a  toy  of  ceremony  should  be  obtruded  on 
him  at  such  a  moment. 

Amabelle  was  quicker  than  he  was.  She  guessed  instantly 
that  it  was  one  of  the  queer,  devious  modes  of  communi- 
cation dear  to  a  Celestial. 

She  took  the  card  from  Paul.  The  two  symbols  of  his 
Excellency's  name  and  rank  were  printed  in  proper  Celestial 
fashion  one  above  the  other,  but  at  the  very  foot  was  added, 
in  the  thin  writing  which  Chi  Lung  afifected  when  he  con- 
descended to  European  penmanship,  the  address  of  the  old 
man's  house  in  London. 

"  No.  19  Portarlington  Place,"  she  exclaimed,  showing 
the  addition  to  Paul.  "  Don't  you  understand,  he  means  you 
to  go  and  see  him.  Oh,  Paul,  what  if  he  should  be  inviting 
you  to  help  him  to  clear  Roger !  "  She  waited  a  moment, 
turning  that  over  in  her  mind.  Paul  watched  her — silent — 
puzzled. 


176  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Why  couldn't  the  old  man  have  said  straight  out  if  he 
wanted  me  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Because  he  is  a  Celestial,"  Amabelle  answered. 

"  Of  course  you  understand  them  and  their  queer  circum- 
locutory ways,"  Paul  grunted  irritably — "  you  had  fourteen 
years  of  their  oddities  with  Sir  Arthur  at  Pekin." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  nodded  with  a  subdued  sigh.  "  Yes,  it 
needs  patience,  Paul,  I  know,"  she  said.  "  The  Chinese 
mind  often  appears  to  proceed  backwards  because  it  works 
from  motives  unexpected  by  our  Western  mind,  and  is 
directed  to  an  end  equally  unforeseen  by  us;  it's  a  sort  of 
mental  jiu-jitsu!  " 

Paul  shook  his  head — "  I  call  it  procrastination,"  he  re- 
joined stubbornly,  "  I  very  nearly  lost  my  temper  with  the 
old  man  this  morning — he  was  so  confoundedly  Oriental — 
and  yet — "  he  paused  and  a  smile  crept  round  the  corners 
of  his  mouth — "  I  like  the  old  boy — and  I'm  sure  you're 
right  about  his  devotion  to  Roger.  But  then,  why  doesn't 
he  move  to  help  us  ?  "  Paul's  irritation  was  coming  upper- 
most again.  "  He  can,"  he  continued  emphatically,  "  I'm 
sure  of  that — he  knows  a  lot  more  than  he  confides  to  us — 
but  why?  It's  a  puzzle.  Ha!"  Paul's  face  lighted  up 
humorously — "  that's  it,"  he  went  on — "  '  A  Chinese  Puz- 
zle ' — and  we've  got  to  discover  the  master  spring  for 
ourselves,  I  suppose." 

Amabelle  looked  up  at  him  curiously. 

"  Don't  you  remember,"  he  hastened  to  explain,  "  those 
irritating  toys  we  used  to  have  when  we  were  children? 
There  was  a  box  they  called  '  The  Chinese  Puzzle  ' — per- 
fectly square,  perfectly  smooth — to  all  outward  appearances 
perfectly  solid — you  could  hammer  it  or  batter  it,  and  it 
wouldn't  open  in  a  month  of  Sundays,  but,  put  your  finger 
by  chance  on  the  right  spring — hey,  presto! — all  the  sides 
in  that  blessed  box  revolved  at  once,  showing  daylight 
through." 

He  paused — Amabelle  was  watching  him  intently — a 
curious  wonder  growing  in  her  eyes. 

"  And  you  think "  she  said  slowly. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  177 

"  Old  Chi  Lung's  the  same  sort  of  '  Chinese  Puzzle,' " 
Paul  retorted,  "  solid,  stolid,  all  sharp  corners,  smooth  as 
paint  and  dark  as  wood,  but  somewhere  there's  a  hidden 
spring,  and  if  we  can  only  put  our  finger  on  it — we  shall 
come  to  daylight  over  this  business  of  Roger's." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  smiled  gently — "  You  may  be  right, 
Paul,"  she  agreed,  "  but  if  Chi  Lung  really  holds  the  spring 
to  this  mystery,  only  patience  to  the  infinite  degree  will  serve 
with  him." 

"  ni  be  a  very  monument  of  patience  to  the  old  man," 
Paul  declared  resolutely,  "  I'll  out-Job  Job  at  the  business — 
trust  to  me !  "  He  carefully  deposited  the  old  Chinaman's 
red  visiting  card  in  his  note  case.  "  This  is  the  winning 
suit,"  he  concluded  confidently,  "  I  see  that  now,  and  some 
day  the  old  man  will  draw  the  trump  card  from  that  long 
sleeve  of  his." 

Paul  left  her  cheered  somewhat — stimulated  to  think  that 
her  old  friend  had  but  appeared  lukewarm  while  all  the 
time  he  was  meditating  a  movement  to  help.  And  then 
Roger  sought  her  out,  and  with  her  first  glance  at  his  face 
she  was  plunged  back  into  the  stress  of  the  actual  situation. 

"  I  am  going  away,"  he  began  abruptly,  "  up  to  London 
with  Paul — I  am  leaving  in  an  hour." 

Most  women  would  have  asked  why.  Amabelle  did  noth- 
ing of  the  kind.  She  sat  still  and  waited.  All  her  life  that 
power  of  silence  had  brought  her  revelation.  The  woman 
who  leaves  a  man  free  to  tell  her  nothing,  invariably  ends 
by  hearing  all. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  Roger  blurted  out,  "  that  I  have  no  right 
to  take  advantage  of  Naomi's  generosity  ?  She  was  so  moved 
by  my  trouble  that  she  thought  of  nothing  but  helping  me, 
but  it  isn't  fair  to  her — I  must  go  away.  I  must  leave  her 
to  reflect,  to  weigh  things,  to  add  them  up.  A  man  damned 
as  I  am  has  no  right  to  drag  a  woman  down  with  him." 

Almost  timidly  his  mother  spoke  of  rehabilitation,  of 
restitution.  Roger  was  not  in  a  condition  which  admitted 
of  argument.  He  held  on  to  one  point.  He  must  go  away 
to  give  Naomi  a  chance  to  repent  of  her  generosity. 


178  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  I  have  left  her  a  letter,"  he  said,  "  telling  her  that  what 
was  said  this  morning  counts  for  nothing.  I  shall  stay  with 
Paul  for  a  day  or  two  till  I  can  decide  on  my  next  move- 
ments,   ril  wire  you  tomorrow,  dearest." 

Amabelle  de  la  Haye  assented  without  even  a  murmur  of 
protest.  As  she  reviewed  the  circumstances,  she  realized 
that  Roger  was  doing  the  only  thing  possible  to  a  man  with 
as  fine  a  sense  of  honor,  with  as  delicate  a  set  of  scruples, 
as  his.  All  his  life  she  had  come  to  his  rescue,  not  when 
he  called,  but  before  he  called,  and  now  her  first  impulse 
was  to  set  about  thinking  what  she  could  do  to  help.  But 
another  moment's  reflection  pointed  out  that  the  initiative 
had  passed  from  her — Naomi  was  Roger's  first  considera- 
tion, and  his  stumbling-block.  It  was  for  her  to  protest 
or  acquiesce.  She  must  prove  whether  her  passionate  dec- 
laration of  the  morning  was  a  resolution,  a  principle,  or 
whether  it  was  but  an  outburst  of  overwrought  feeling. 
Yet,  Amabelle  would  still  be  at  hand  if  she  were  wanted. 
She  was  too  fine  a  woman  to  refuse  a  role  because  it  did 
not  happen  to  be  the  "  lead." 

She  retired  to  the  Queen  Anne  room  and  told  Littleport 
that  she  was  not  at  home,  but  if  anyone  wanted  her  she 
was  to  be  found  there — a  hint  which  she  could  trust  the  old 
man  to  interpret  with  discretion. 

Meantime  the  car,  with  Paul  driving  and  Roger  sitting 
beside  him,  was  racing  up  to  London.  At  first  the  two  men 
sat  side  by  side  in  silence:  nothing  had  been  arranged  be- 
yond the  bare  fact  that  Roger  would  go  back  to  stay  with 
Paul.  There  had  been  no  mention  as  yet  of  plans  or  pur- 
pose, but  when  Paul's  big  car  had  been  covering  the  ground 
for  some  half-hour  at  a  pace  which  would  have  routed  the 
hero  of  a  police-trap,  Roger  suddenly  turned  on  him. 

"  It  was  the  Olympic  News  Service  who  issued  our 
memorandum  to  the  papers,"  he  said  tersely. 

Paul  nodded.  Roger's  mind  had  passed  from  Naomi  to 
the  theft.  As  long  as  Roger  had  been  absorbed  in  the  in- 
timately personal  matter,  Marketel  had  felt  that  the  greatest 
service  he  could  do  his  friend  was  to  keep  still.     Now,  he 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  179 

felt  that  he  could  at  least  contribute  his  comment  to  other 
comments. 

"  The  Olympic  News  Service  is  Lionel  Vancrest,"  he  said, 
"  a  hustler,  but  straight." 

"He  must  have  got  it  direct  from  the  thief?"  Roger 
went  on. 

"  Bought  it,"  corrected  Paul,  "  and  for  a  pretty  stiff  figure 
too,  I  imagine." 

"  At  any  rate,"  replied  Roger  testily,  "  he  would  know 
who  the  fellow  was." 

Paul  nodded.  He  was  upon  an  awkward  piece  of  road 
and  for  the  moment  the  wheel  absorbed  him. 

"  Look  here,"  said  Roger,  "  why  shouldn't  we  go  straight 
to  the  Olympic  people  and  see  what  we  can  find  out  from 
them?" 

"  Just  what  I'd  suggest  myself,"  Paul  answered. 

"  Do  you  know  where  they  are  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  Paul,  "  I  know." 

Roger  nodded  and  lapsed  into  silence  again.  His 
brow  was  wrinkled,  his  lips  were  shut  in  a  firm,  obtruded 
line. 

Paul  drove  on  with  even  less  regard  to  the  speed  limit 
than  before,  but  man  proposes  and  machinery  disposes.  The 
car,  which  had  carried  Paul  hundreds  of  miles  when  noth- 
ing more  momentous  than  a  dinner  engagement  was  at  stake, 
suddenly  grunted,  groaned,  slowed  down,  and  then  refused 
to  move  a  yard.  In  vain  Paul  got  out,  opened  the  bonnet, 
and  inspected  first  one  item  of  the  machinery  and  then  the 
other — nothing  would  make  the  motor  move,  and  it  was  not 
until  a  farm  cart  passed  and  was  hired  to  tow  them  to  the 
nearest  town  that  Paul  and  Roger  saw  any  chance  of  get- 
ting to  London  that  night.  As  it  was,  they  did  not  reach 
Liverpool  Street  Station  until  after  nine  and  the  Olympic 
News  Agency  was  closed.  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to 
possess  their  souls  with  what  patience  they  could  until  the 
morrow. 

The  Olympic  Press  Agency  was  an  international  concern, 
perhaps  that  was  why  it  housed  itself  with  comparative 


i8o  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

modesty.  The  next  morning  before  eleven,  Paul  pulled  up 
at  the  dingy  door  of  the  old  house,  and  with  only  a  wave 
of  his  hand  to  indicate  that  Roger  was  to  follow  him, 
mounted  the  steps. 

Diplomats — officially  anyway — are  not  supposed  to  have 
anything  to  do  with  press  bureaus — financiers  admittedly 
have.    Paul  pushed  his  way  into  the  outer  office. 

"  Is  Mr.  Vancrest  upstairs  ?  "  he  asked. 

A  young  man  looked  at  him  superciliously,  debating 
whether  to  say  that  his  principal  was  out,  or  that  he  would 
go  and  see  if  Mr.  Vancrest  were  at  horne,  but  Paul  pushed 
his  card  over  the  table. 

"  Take  that  up,  please,"  he  said,  "  and  say  that  my  busi- 
ness is  immediate." 

The  youth  only  glanced  once  at  the  card  and  then  his 
whole  manner  changed. 

"  Yes,  sir — certainly,  sir,"  he  said,  as  deferential  as  he 
had  been  previously  offhand. 

Paul  watched  the  youth  out  of  the  room. 

"  Lucky  to  catch*  him  so  early,"  he  murmured,  but  Roger 
only  gave  him  back  a  glance.  So  much  hung  on  this  inter- 
view, or  he  hoped  it  might,  that  he  could  not  trust  himself 
to  speak. 

The  two  men  had  only  time  for  another  glance  and  then 
the  clerk  came  back.  He  was  as  deferential  as  before,  but 
somewhat  less  eager.  Paul  marked  the  difference  at  once — 
"  Vancrest  doesn't  want  to  see  us,"  he  concluded,  "  he'd  have 
said  he  was  out  if  he  had  dared." 

But  Roger  was  already  out  of  the  room,  he  was  already 
going  up  the  narrow  stairs.  Paul  followed  him,  thinking  as 
deeply  as  quickly. 

The  clerk  pushed  open  the  door. 

"  Mr.  Marketel,"  he  announced,  "  and,"  put  in  Roger, 
"  Sir  Roger  de  la  Haye." 

Paul  heard  the  announcement  and  great  as  was  his  par- 
tiality for  straight  dealing,  he  was  dismayed,  not  to  say 
vexed.  Roger  had  unmasked  the  purpose  of  their  visit,  had 
flung  down  his  gauntlet  with  a  vengeance. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  i8i 

A  shade  passed  over  the  fair  face  of  the  man  sitting  be- 
hind a  big  desk.  It  was  Lionel  Vancrest  himself,  the  man 
who,  from  a  mere  clerk  living  on  a  few  shillings  a  week,  had 
managed  to  raise  himself  to  the  position  of  the  most  cele- 
brated interchanger  of  news  in  the  whole  world. 

Paul  had  just  time  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  swift  change 
in  Vancrest's  face,  and  then  the  little  man  rose. 

"  I  am  always  pleased  to  see  Mr.  Marketel,"  he  said,  ex- 
tending his  hand,  "  but  this  is  the  first  time  that  I  have  had 
the  pleasure  of  meeting  Sir  Roger  de  la  Llaye." 

He  moved  out  from  his  desk  as  he  spoke  and  indicated  a 
couple  of  chairs.  He  took  a  box  of  cigars  from  the  side- 
table. 

"  A  Havana — and  a  whisky  and  soda,"  he  suggested,  as 
if  this  could  but  be  a  visit  of  pleasant  social  gossip.  But 
Roger  de  la  Haye  would  have  nothing  to  do  with  social 
amenities,  neither  would  he  beat  around  the  bush. 

"  Mr.  Vancrest,"  he  said,  "  I  insisted  on  Mr.  Marketel's 
bringing  me  here." 

The  little  stout  man  murmured  something  about  it's  being 
a  pleasure  to  meet  any  friend  of  Mr.  Marketel's,  but  the 
pale  eyes  were  looking  out  with  a  searching  glance,  and  the 
blue  of  their  iris  had  become  as  hard  as  stone. 

Roger  came  a  step  nearer. 

"  We  have  come  to  know  the  name  of  the  scoundrel  who 
sold  the  copy  of  the  Chinese  memorandum  to  you." 

Vancrest  smiled  tolerantly — "  I'm  sorry,  Sir  Roger,"  he 
said,  "  it  was  a  private  transaction  between  me — and  the 
individual  in  question." 

"  You  bought  stolen  property,"  Roger  flung  back  at  him. 

"  Stolen  ?  "  echoed  Vancrest.  "  I  certainly  cannot  admit 
that.  If  the — er — the  information  was  stolen,  I  had  no 
notion  of  how  it  was  obtained  when  I  bought  it.  In  any 
case,"  and  he  smiled  again  at  them,  "  it  is  not  my  business 
to  inquire  as  to  origins,  but  to  acquire  facts  of  public  interest 
and  utility — facts,  moreover,  whose  genuineness  even  you 
are  not  prepared  to  deny."  He  gave  a  quick  shrewd  glance 
at  Marketel  as  he  spoke. 


i82  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  But,"  objected  Roger,  "  this  Chinese  loan  was  a  con- 
fidential negotiation," 

"  And  therefore  of  particular  value  to  the  world  at  large." 
This  time  the  mouth  under  the  fair  mustache  curved  in  a 
cynical  smile.  "  That  is  what  my  Agency  exists  for — to 
diffuse  such  exclusive  information — in  the  public  interest." 

Roger  made  a  weary  gesture.  He  had  no  time  to  fence — 
no  patience  with  subtleties. 

"  Mr.  Vancrest,"  he  said,  "  this  matter  is  vitally  serious. 
The  name,  please,  of  the  man  from  whom  you  bought  the 
Chinese  memorandum." 

"  My  dear  sir,"  rejoined  Vancrest,  with  a  deprecating 
movement.    He  turned  to  Paul. 

"  You  know,"  he  said,  as  if  he  could  still  hope  for  reason- 
ableness from  him,  though  he  despaired  of  finding  it  with 
Roger,  "  that  th^  essence  of  my  business  is  confidence — 
whatever  news  comes  to  me  is  given  on  a  basis  of  con- 
fidence." 

"  Do  you  mean,"  thrust  in  Roger,  "  that  you  refuse  to  tell 
us  the  fellow's  name  ?  " 

"I  mean,"  returned  Vancrest  blandly,  "that  it  is  im- 
possible for  me  to  do  so."  He  looked  at  Paul  again.  "  The 
success  of  my  Agency  depends  on  the  amount  of  confidence 
I  inspire.  I  have  established  a  reputation  for  loyalty  to  my 
agents." 

"  But,"  said  Paul,  "  in  this  instance " 

Mr.  Vancrest  shook  his  head. 

"  There  can  be  no  exceptions,  Mr.  Marketel,"  he  said. 

"  Good  God,  man,"  thrust  in  Roger  passionately,  "  don't 
you  understand  what  this  means  to  me  ?  /  am  being  saddled 
with  the  responsibility  of  this  betrayal— until  I  can  clear 
myself  by  exposing  the  real  thief,  my  career  is  ruined,  my 
reputation  tainted.  Can  you  sit  there  calmly  and  see  an 
innocent  man  bear  the  culpability  for  another's  crime?  " 

Vancrest  leaned  forward  seriously.  There  was  a  touch 
of  genuine  sympathy  in  his  voice  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  am  sorry.  Sir  Roger,"  he  said,  "  I  had  no  idea  that 
the  matter  affected  you  so  badly — none  the  less "    He 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  183 

paused,  and  his  perturbation  was  quite  obviously  sincere,  "  I 

have  given  my  word,  and "  he  filled  in  the  break  with  a 

significant  shrug. 

"  But,"  urged  Roger  desperately,  "  the  man  is  a  common 
thief." 

Vancrest  shook  his  head  with  a  protesting  smile.  "  No, 
Sir  Roger,"  he  differed,  "  not  a  common  one,  unfortunately 
for  you — he  is  a  most  acute  one.  He  got  wind  of  the 
transaction  and  brought  me  details  of  what  he  averred  to  be 
the  terms  of  a  secret  navy  loan  to  China.  H  the  informa- 
tion was  correct,  it  was  a  scoop  of  such  magnitude  that  it 
was  worth  risking  a  good  deal.  I  took  that  risk.  The  terms 
were  correct.  I  paid  heavily  and  promised  secrecy.  It  must 
be  evident  to  both  you  gentlemen,"  and  here  the  little  man 
permitted  himself  half  a  bow,  "  that  wherever  my  sympa- 
thies may  be,  my  tongue  is  tied." 

Paul  saw  that  Vancrest  was  immovable,  as  indeed  he  knew 
he  was  obliged  to  be,  and  Roger  saw  it  too.  There  was 
no  point  in  their  staying  longer.  He  cut  short  the  inter- 
view. 

"  I  warn  you,  Mr.  Vancrest,"  he  said,  "  the  matter  will  not 
end  here,  we  shall  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  find  the 
thief." 

The  little  man  smiled  genially  and  with  a  carefully  non- 
committal air,  and  then  an  impulse  superseded  the  business 
attitude.  "  I  hope  you  may  succeed,"  he  said.  "  Indeed," 
he  went  on,  turning  more  directly  to  Roger,  "  it  would  give 
me  genuine  satisfaction  to  know  that  you  had  run  the — 
ahem — individual  in  question  to  earth — but,  my  hands  are 
tied." 

Roger  bowed  stiffly  and  followed  Paul  down  the  stairs 
without  a  word.  Pious  hopes  were  all  very  well,  but  he 
wanted  exact  information,  and  this  man  who  could  have 
named  the  thief  refused  to  speak. 

They  were  no  sooner  in  the  street  than  his  passion  found 
voice  again.    He  turned  on  the  big  man  at  his  side. 

"  Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  be  satisfied  with  what  Van- 
crest said  ?    Do  you  think  I  am  going  to  do  nothing  more  ?  " 


i84  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

he  asked,  and  Paul  might  have  retorted  that  he  had  stated  no 
supposition  at  all,  but  he  had  too  keen  a  perception  of  how 
Roger  was  suffering  to  say  anything  so  thoughtless,  and  all 
he  returned  was  that  if  Roger  had  any  lead  to  suggest,  he 
asked  nothing  better  than  to  follow. 

For  a  moment  that  threw  Roger  back  on  himself. 

"  You  must  know  of  something,  you  must  be  able  to  do 
something,"  he  muttered  peevishly,  and  then,  almost  as  he 
spoke,  he  clutched  Paul's  arm. 

"  There's  Carson,"  he  declared. 

"Who  is  Carson?"  asked  Marketel. 

Roger  rapidly  explained.  Harold  Carson  was  a  man 
sometimes  employed  by  the  Foreign  Office,  at  other  times 
he  worked  for  private  individuals — if  he  considered  the  case 
worthy  of  his  time  and  attention.  He  had  set  what  might 
be  called  a  high  standard  in  espionage,  he  would  give  no 
help  to  mere  intrigue,  still  less  to  anything  remotely  con- 
nected with  blackmail.  He  was  a  man  to  be  trusted,  a  man 
of  acumen  and  of  delicate  touch. 

"  I  should  think  he  is  the  very  man  for  us,"  Paul  con- 
cluded when  he  had  heard  Roger's  description.  "  Where 
does  he  live?  " 

For  a  moment  Roger  was  in  doubt,  then  he  recollected 
that  Harold  Carson's  address  was  in  the  telephone  book,  and 
the  mention  of  the  telephone  suggested  the  ringing  up  of 
the  detective  and  the  asking  of  him  if  he  could  see  them 
at  once. 

Roger  and  Marketel  drove  to  Paul's  club — but  once  at 
the  door,  Roger  would  not  get  out.  He  fancied  that  a  man 
whom  he  knew  slightly  had  seen  who  was  in  the  car  and 
had  hurried  up  the  steps  to  avoid  him.  No  doubt  the  affair 
was  already  club  gossip.  "  Go  in  and  telephone,"  he  said 
grimly  to  Paul,  "  I'll  wait  here." 

He  drew  further  back  in  the  car  and  peeped  out  sideways. 
He  looked  at  the  wide  steps — into  the  fine  hall.  He  saw  the 
members  coming  and  going:  the  little  knots  form  and  dis- 
perse: he  could  see  the  emphatic  gestures,  could  imagine 
the  decisive  words  clothing  decisive  opinions  which  they 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  185 

accompanied.  He  saw  more  than  one  head  turn  to  look 
after  Paul.  Was  opinion  pitying  Paul  and  saying  hard 
things  of  him  too? 

Before  Paul  returned,  Roger  had  worked  himself  up  to 
a  pitch  of  misery. 

"  Carson  won't  be  at  home  until  three,"  Paul  said  as  he 
put  his  hand  on  to  the  door. 

"  Then  we'll  go  at  three,"  Roger  said  shortly. 

"  Right,"  answered  Paul.  He  stood  hesitating  a  moment, 
n  he  were  in  doubt  as  to  what  was  to  come  next,  Roger 
solved  the  problem. 

"  I  shall  go  to  my  lawyer,"  he  said.  "  May  I  take  the  car 
on?  I  shall  be  leaving  England  almost  immediately  and  I 
must  leave  my  mother  a  power  of  attorney." 

Paul  nodded  quickly  with  a  relieved  smile.  "  Just  suit 
me,"  he  said,  "  I  feel  like  a  walk  to  pull  my  wits  together. 
Be  at  my  house  for  lunch  and  we'll  go  together  to  see 
Carson." 

From  the  quiet  club  in  St.  James's  Square  to  Paul's  house, 
it  was  almost  a  direct  way  to  go  by  Egglestone  Place,  in 
which  particular  street  Victoria  rented  a  little  house  with  a 
white  painted  door  and  flowers  in  the  window-boxes.  Paul 
would  have  liked  to  maintain  that  to  go  past  that  little  house 
was  the  most  direct  way  for  him,  but  he  was  too  honest  to 
juggle  with  himself. 

He  was  as  much  a  man  as  a  devoted  friend,  and  now, 
having  done  all  for  his  friend,  the  thought  of  Victoria  took 
precedence,  for  the  moment,  of  that  perplexity. 

When  Victoria  left  Zouche  the  previous  day,  she  had 
taken  Aimee  with  her.  She  had  referred  vaguely  to 
remaining  in  London  for  a  few  days  and  then  going  "  some- 
where." In  reality  she  intended  to  put  the  Channel  between 
herself  and  this  masterful  man. 

Perhaps  when  Paul  set  forth  he  had  only  meant  to  go 
past  Victoria's  dwelling,  to  imagine  her  within  and  pass  by, 
but  when  he  reached  the  point  where  Egglestone  Gardens 
turned  into  Egglestone  Place,  he  pulled  up. 


i86  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

The  attraction  of  gravitation  is  a  feeble  thing  compared 
with  the  attraction  of  desire.  Paul  looked  down  the  street 
toward  No.  19,  much  as  Moses  must  have  looked  down  on 
the  Promised  Land,  and  then  he  saw  a  taxicab  come  along 
from  the  opposite  end  of  the  street.  That  cab  drew  up 
before  Victoria's  door,  and  Paul  could  see  it  was  Billy 
Hirst  who  got  out  and  ran  up  the  steps  to  the  house. 

The  whole  of  Paul's  frame  stiffened — and  with  anger. 
It  was  quite  unreasonable,  of  course,  but  it  set  every  fiber  of 
his  being  protesting,  tingling,  to  think  that  Billy  could  claim 
admittance  as  a  matter  of  course,  while  he  was  casting  about 
for  an  excuse  to  pull  the  bell. 

The  next  moment  the  plain  strong  face  relaxed  into  an 
ironical  smile.  After  all  Billy's  luck  was  not  so  very  much 
better  than  his  own,  for  Victoria's  Emily,  as  she  was  always 
known  to  the  intimate  friends  of  the  house,  was  shaking  her 
head  with  an  evident  denial. 

He  started  off  down  the  street  to  accost  Billy. 

"  Well,  I  never,"  began  the  young  man.  "  I  never  thought 
I'd  run  across  you." 

The  two  turned  side  by  side. 

"  I  say,"  ran  on  Billy,  "  this  is  luck  my  seeing  you.  I 
suppose  you  can  tell  me  no  end." 

"What  about?" 

"  About  prospecting  in  the  Andes.  It  was  just  coming 
into  my  head  to  ring  you  up." 

"  What  do  you  want  to  know  about  it  ?  "  inquired  Paul 
shortly. 

"  I've  got  the  definite  oflFer  of  a  job  there." 

"  With  whom?  "  asked  Paul. 

"  Oh,"  answered  Billy  vaguely,  "  under  some  Brazihan 
fellows." 

Paul  turned  and  faced  the  gay  light-hearted  boy  almost 
angrily.  "  I  suppose  you  know  what  a  business  expedition 
into  the  Andes  under  a  half-breed  may  mean?  "  he  asked. 

"  Worry,  fever,  risk — but  pay,"  retorted  Billy. 

"  I've  worked  in  such  company,"  Paul  went  on,  and  he 
spoke  slowly.    "  I've  tried  it  in  Mexico,  I've  tried  it  else- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  187 

where.     I  know  these  exploring  expeditions,  and  it  isn't  a 
life  fit  for  a  dog." 

"  Beggars  can't  be  choosers,"  answered  Billy,  and  for  once 
he  came  very  near  to  being  sulky. 

"  Surely,"  cried  out  Paul,  "  you  can  find  something 
better?" 

At  that  very  moment,  as  if  Dame  Fate  herself  would 
answer  the  question,  a  newsboy  raced  past  them.  "  Perilous 
position  of  the  Antarctic  Expedition,"  he  was  crying — 
"  Relief  ship  to  sail." 

Marketel  pointed  towards  the  flaming  poster.  "  Didn't 
Victoria  tell  me  you  were  going  to  have  a  hand  in  that  ?  " 
he  said,  "  surely  that's  more  in  your  line." 

"  It  was — I'd  never  done  the  Arctics,  and  of  course  that's 
just  a  Sunday  picnic — but  I  can't  raise  the  needful." 

"  It's  a  question  of  money  ?  " 

Billy  shuffled  uncomfortably.  "  You  see,"  he  said,  "  a 
month  ago  I  ofifered  to  put  two  thousand  into  the  job,  but 
I  can't  now.  Anyhow,  that  Andes  job  will  bring  me  in  a 
bit  whatever  else  is  to  be  said  against  it." 

After  that  the  two  men  walked  along  silently  side  by  side. 

Paul  told  himself  that  this  expedition  to  the  Andes  was 
not  his  affair,  either  to  encourage  or  withhold.  He  had  done 
his  duty  in  refusing  Billy  the  command  of  his  ruby  expedi- 
tion. The  remembrance  of  David  and  Uriah  the  Hittite  had 
made  him  search  his  mind  to  its  depths.  "  We  are  none  of 
us  so  good  or  so  bad  as  we  think  we  are,"  remarked  that 
wise  old  cynic.  La  Rochefoucauld,  and  Paul's  sensitiveness 
probably  exaggerated  the  savagery  of  his  desire.  Now  he 
had  fought  out  the  fight  with  himself  and  he  had  won.  No 
act  or  aid  of  his  should  send  his  rival  into  a  possible  danger 
from  which  he  might  never  return.  Surely  there  his  duty 
finished?  And  now  if  this  madman  chose  to  go  to  the 
Andes,  what  earthly  concern  was  it  of  his  ? 

Paul  smiltd  grimly  under  his  mustache.  That  qualifying 
adjective  "  earthly  "  restored  the  balance  of  his  perspective. 
There  is  so  much  that  is  earthly  about  this  process  of  reason- 
ing which,  be  it  marked,  men  only  employ  when  there  is 


i88  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

some  advantage  to  themselves  behind  it.  Paul  could  not 
hide  the  possible  advantage  to  himself  in  this  situation  unless 
he  were  content  to  deliberately  shut  his  eyes  to  it.  His  own 
ruby  expedition  had  a  necessary  element  of  danger  to  it, 
but  the  present  scheme  was  a  hundred  times  worse.  Paul 
doubted  if  Billy,  with  all  his  experience,  really  estimated 
what  was  before  him.  The  young  man  had  traveled  often 
enough  where  the  comforts  of  life  were  non-existent,  but  he 
had  always  been  in  command,  it  had  always  been  a  white 
man's  job.  The  bearers  had  been  his,  the  porters,  the  escort. 
His,  too,  was  the  command  of  the  stores,  the  comforts,  the 
medicines.  The  expedition  was  conducted  on  the  lines  of 
an  honorable  man's  conception  of  fair  dealing.  Now,  Billy 
proposed  to  go  as  a  paid  servant  in  a  gang  where  every  man 
was  for  himself  and,  ten  to  one.  such  things  as  honor  and 
scrupulousness  would  be  conspicuous  by  their  absence.  Billy 
would  never  stand  it,  would  never  keep  a  quiet  tongue  in 
his  head.  Then,  once  down  with  fever  (and  the  fever  was 
pretty  well  as  certain  as  that  night  followed  day),  it  might 
be  convenient  to  get  rid  of  him.  Billy  might  be  left  to  die 
in  some  jungle — or  if  there  seemed  a  greater  need  to  hurry, 
a  knife  might  just  be  thrust  between  his  ribs.  Paul  shut 
off  this  ugly  picture  with  a  jerk. 

"  When  do  you  think  of  starting?  "  he  asked. 

"  U  I  go,  I  sign  on  today,"  Billy  answered.  "  They  are 
to  let  me  know  by  five  this  evening." 

"  And,"  asked  Paul,  "  is  Victoria  willing  that  you  should 
go? 

"  She  does  not  know  anything  about  it.  Fd  just  been  to 
try  to  see  her  when  I  met  you." 

Paul  nodded.  The  "am  I  my  brother's  keeper?"  argu- 
ment had  been  finally  thrust  behind  him — few  honest  men 
find  it  easy  to  give  it  a  conscientious  negative. 

"  Yes — you  ought  not  to  decide  until  you  have  seen  her," 
Paul  answered  weightily. 

He  turned  suddenly  and  held  out  his  hand. 

"  Good-by,  Hirst,"  he  said,  "  and  good  luck  to  you  what- 
ever you  decide." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  189 

He  hesitated  a  moment.  It  seemed  as  if  he  were  about  to 
say  something  further,  to  add  some  word  of  advice,  but 
instead,  with  a  short  laugh,  he  swung  on  his  heel  and  walked 
rapidly  away. 

Billy  stared  after  him  curiously,  with  a  kind  of  feeling 
that  the  really  important  thing  had  been  left  unsaid. 

"  Queer  old  bird,  Marketel,"  he  commented  and  sauntered 
ofT  to  fill  in  the  couple  of  hours  to  lunch  time,  after  which 
he  proposed  to  again  present  himself  at  Egglestone  Place. 

As  Paul  Marketel  walked  rapidly  away,  he  was  revolving 
a  host  of  possibilities  in  his  mind.  Pie  looked  at  his  watch 
— it  was  not  yet  twelve  o'clock.  He  hailed  a  passing  taxi 
and  directed  the  man  to  drive  at  once  to  his  bank.  His 
business  was  of  the  briefest,  for  by  the  time  the  bank 
manager  had  hurried  round  to  see  personally  what  he  could 
do  for  so  distinguished  a  client,  Paul  had  turned  over  a 
hastily  written  check  to  the  cashier  and  had  received  in 
exchange  two  large  new  bank  notes  of  the  unusual  value  of 
one  thousand  pounds  each. 

In  less  than  ten  minutes  he  was  back  in  the  library  of  his 
own  big  lonely  house  inscribing  a  few  typewritten  words  on 
a  blank  half-sheet  of  paper.  An  envelope  was  duly  ad- 
dressed in  the  same  fashion,  and  an  express  messenger  boy 
waiting  at  the  door  was  given  particular  instructions  as  to 
when  and  where  he  was  to  deliver  it. 

The  business  completed,  Paul  lighted  a  big  cigar,  dropped 
his  bulky  frame  into  a  chair,  and  resolutely  devoted  himself 
to  a  fresh  review  of  the  mystery  of  the  Chinese  memo- 
randum. 


CHAPTER  XV 

It   was   nearly  three   o'clock   when   Billy    Hirst  knocked 
again  at  the  door  of  19  Egglestone  Place. 

"  No,  Sir,"  answered  Emily,  "  Miss  Cresswell  has  not 
yet  come  back,  but  she  may  return  at  any  moment.  Won't 
you  come  in?  " 

Billy  said  he  would,  and  as  he  was  putting  down  his 
hat  and  stick,  Emily  told  him  that  Aimee  was  in  the 
drawing-room.  Billy  grunted  discontentedly.  He  was 
fond  enough  of  Aimee  in  his  way,  but  at  that  moment  he 
wanted  to  see  Victoria  by  herself. 

As  a  rule,  Billy  had  not  a  great  deal  to  say  to  the  woman 
he  was  going  to  marry — some  time — but  Paul's  questions 
as  to  what  Victoria  would  think  had  struck  home.  It 
was  right  she  should  know  what  this  Brazilian  expedition 
implied:  it  was  right  too  she  should  say  her  yea  or  nay. 
Hitherto  she  had  always  met  his  wandering  fits  cheerfully 
and  with  acquiescence,  but  this  was  rather  different,  inso- 
much as  if  he  made  any  money  out  of  it — a  thing  about 
which  he  had  been  quite  indifferent  before — he  wanted 
to  put  it  into  a  farm  or  a  ranch.  He  must  earn  his  own 
living,  and  the  colonies,  not  an  office  stool,  seemed  to  him 
the  only  way. 

He  walked  up  the  stairs  soberly  for  him,  and  pushed 
open  the  door  of  Victoria's  pretty  drawing-room.  He  was 
too  much  an  habitue  for  Emily  to  announce  him,  and  as 
he  sank  on  to  a  big  easy  chair  and  stretched  out  his  legs 
— for  to  elongate  his  lower  limbs  always  seems  to  con- 
sole a  man  when  he  is  perturbed — he  thought  he  had  the 
room  all  to  himself,  and  then  the  window  curtains  were 
pushed  aside  and  he  saw  Aimee. 

"  You?  "  she  began. 

190 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  191 

Billy  assured  her  that  he  was  he  himself. 

"Will  Victoria  be  long?"  he  asked. 

"  Couldn't  say,"  Aimee  answered  as  she  curled  herself 
up  kitten  fashion  among  the  sofa  cushions. 

"  I  want  to  see  her,"  murmured  Billy. 

"Anything  particular?"  asked  the  girl. 

Billy  nodded  and  then  he  got  up  and  walked  down  the 
room. 

There  was  nothing  extravagant  or  lavish  about  Vic- 
toria's possessions.  She  had  kept  the  very  things  which 
Aunt  Martha — whose  taste  was  of  the  horse-hair  period — 
had  mostly  banished  to  the  attics,  but  since  they  were  none 
of  them  less  than  a  hundred  years  old,  they  at  least  be- 
spoke a  settled  and  ordered  life. 

Two  days  ago  Billy  would  have  dismissed  the  whole  of 
the  drawing-room  furniture  as  "  Aunt  Martha's  odds  and 
ends,"  now  he  looked  at  them  from  quite  another  point  of 
view.  To  think  of  Victoria's  living  in  a  house  like  this 
was  a  very  different  matter  from  imagining  Victoria's 
being  transplanted  into  a  wooden  shanty.  Not  that  she 
would  hesitate  if  it  were  worth  while,  but  the  question 
was — was  it  worth  while — was  he  worth  while? 

Aimee  watched  him,  and  then  suddenly  she  sat  up.  She 
hunched  up  her  knees  until  they  touched  her  chin,  and 
clasped  both  her  hands  about  them. 

"  I  say,  Billy,"  she  began. 

"  What  ?  "  he  asked  shortly. 

"  I  suppose  you  think  I  am  only  a  child,"  she  went  on. 

"  No — betwixt  and  between,"  returned  the  young  man 
judicially, 

"  And  you  consider  yourself  grown-up?  " 

"  If  I'm  not  I  never  shall  be,"  Billy  answered. 

Aimee  nodded.  She  had  a  long  chain  of  pink  coral 
round  her  neck,  and  she  lifted  one  end  and  began  to  pass 
the  beads  one  by  one  through  her  fingers.  She  looked  so 
demure — her  air  was  so  reflective — that  it  even  conveyed 
something  to  Billy. 

"  Look  here !    What  are  you  driving  at  ?  "  he  demanded. 


192  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  I  suppose,"  remarked  the  girl,  "  minding  your  own 
business  is  a  virtue  ?  " 

"  I  should  say  so,  just,"  returned  the  young  man. 

"  And  Victoria's  business  could  not  be  mine  ?  " 

"  Don't  see  how  it  could  be." 

"  You  think  she  can  manage  her  own  affairs  ?  " 

"  No  one  better." 

"  She  did  take  her  money  away  from  that  Mr.  Buzby," 
pursued  Aimee  reflectively. 

"  No,"  cried  out  Billy,  falling  into  the  particular  trap 
prepared  for  him,  "  she  didn't — Paul  Marketel  took  it  for 
her." 

"  Oh !  "  murmured  Aimee. 

Billy  turned  on  her. 

"  I  say,"  he  cried  out  irritably,  "  what  do  you  mean  by 
saying  '  oh  '  like  that  ?  " 

The  girl's  lips  were  skimmed  with  a  smile.  It  was  tender 
and  amused  at  the  same  time.  A  very  little  smile — such 
a  one,  in  fact,  as  even  the  youngest  girl  permits  herself 
when  faced  by  a  display  of  masculine  denseness. 

"  I'm  no  good  at  beating  about  the  bush,"  declared  Billy, 
as  he  caught  the  fleeting  expression,  "  but  I  don't  like  being 
made  a  fool  of." 

Aimee  rose  too.  It  was  wonderful  how  a  certain  large- 
ness of  purpose  pushed  the  childishness  out  of  her  face. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  she  cried  out,  "  I'm  taking  no  end  on 
myself.  Perhaps  I'm  saying  what  I  ought  not,  but  you 
are  making  such  a  mistake." 

"What  mistake?"  asked  Billy,  "let's  have  it  out  plain." 

Aimee  straightened  her  slip  of  a  body.  She  put  her 
hands  demurely  down  to  her  sides.  She  felt  as  if  she 
were  back  in  the  convent.  She  almost  expected  to  hear 
the  Mother  Superior's  weighty  "  ma  fillc,"  and  then  she 
raised  her  head.  Whatever  scrapes  she  got  into  she  had 
never  been  frightened  when  it  came  to  the  exaction  of  the 
penalty — she  was  not  going  to  be  frightened  now. 

"  Billy,"  she  said,  "  you  are  not  in  love  with  Victoria." 

The  young  man  stiffened.     It  was  pretty  much  what  he 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  193 

had  been  coming  to  ever  since  he  knew  that  his  money  had 
gone,  but  to  whisper  a  thing  hke  that  in  his  own  heart  was 
a  very  different  thing  from  hearing  it  proclaimed  in  the 
open  by  another  person. 

"  You  have  no  right  to  say  that,"  he  retorted. 

"  Have  you  ever  asked  yourself,"  Aimee  went  on  so 
quickly  that  Billy  had  no  time  to  interrupt  her,  "  if  Vic- 
toria is  in  love  with  you  ?  " 

"Victoria?"  exclaimed  Billy.  His  first  notion  was  to 
say  that  of  course  she  must  be — were  they  not  going  to 
be  married — some  day — had  they  not  been  engaged  for 
years?    Instead,  he  stopped  with  his  mouth  half  open. 

"Have  you  ever  noticed  her  with  Paul  Marketel?" 
Aimee  said  softly. 

"  Paul  ?  What  on  earth  has  he  got  to  do  with  us  ?  " 
asked  Billy. 

"  Everything,"  was  the  astonishing  response. 

Billy  Hirst  turned  slowly  round.  The  easy-going  expres- 
sion had  left  his  face,  and  its  place  had  been  taken  by 
that  look  of  fixed  determination  which  explained  how 
he  came  to  be  an  efhcient  leader  under  trying  circum- 
stances. 

"  I  say,  Aimee,"  he  said,  "  you  have  said  either  too  much 
or  too  little.     Please  tell  me  exactly  what  you  mean." 

"  I  mean,"  returned  Aimee,  "  that  Paul  Marketel  is  in 
love  with  Victoria,  and  Victoria  with  him." 

"My  hat!"  ejaculated  Billy. 

He  stood  still,  staring  straight  before  him,  then  he  whis- 
tled a  long  low  note. 

Some  statements  strike  one  as  possibly  correct — others 
as  possibly  incorrect,  they  require  time  for  examination, 
time  to  determine  what  value  to  attach  to  them.  Here  and 
there  an  assertion  comes  home  with  a  rush  of  conviction. 

As  Billy  heard  Aimee's  bald  announcement,  there  was 
that,  somewhere  in  the  background  of  his  mind,  which 
answered  "  this  is  true." 

He  stood  still,  thinking  backwards,  and  out  of  a  con- 
fusion of  thought  Marketers  attitude  detached  itself. 


194  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  I  see,"  he  muttered,  "  why  Paul  wouldn't  let  me  go  on 
that  ruby  hunt. " 

"  Tell  me  all  about  it,"  Aimee  demanded 

In  a  very  few  words  Billy  sketched  the  position,  and 
then  Aimee  put  Paul's  exact  conclusion  into  her  own 
words. 

"  I  suppose,"  she  said,  "  that  since  you  were  so  badly  in 
his  way,  it  wasn't  playing  the  game  to  let  you  run  a  chance 
of  getting  out  of  it." 

And  then  just  as  matters  had  got  to  this  point,  Victoria 
herself  pushed  open  the  door. 

She  had  evidently  only  just  come  in,  but  in  her  hand 
she  held  a  letter. 

"  This  came  round  from  your  rooms,"  she  said,  holding 
the  envelope  out  to  Billy.  "  It  was  marked  '  immediate,' 
and  seemed  so  important  that  the  messenger  was  sent  on 
here." 

"Right,"  said  Billy.  He  took  the  long  business-looking 
envelope  into  his  hand  and  glanced  at  Victoria.  He  was 
quite  sure  it  was  some  further  word  about  the  Brazilian 
business.  He  had  expected  it  and  had  told  his  landlady 
to  send  it  on  to  Victoria's  house.  He  wished  he  had  had 
a  chance  of  saying  a  word  before  it  came,  but  as  it  was 
here,  he  broke  the  seal.  He  pushed  up  the  flap,  took  out 
a  large  sheet  and  unfolded  it. 

"  Oh !  "  he  began  blankly,  and  then  he  gave  vent  to  such 
a  peculiar  sound— a  gasp— a  smothered  exclamation— that 
both  the  women  looked  up  quickly. 

"What  is  it?"  Aimee  asked. 

"  Money,"  gasped  Billy,  "  two  thousand  pounds." 

He  let  the  envelope  flutter  out  of  his  grasp.  The  sheet 
of  notepaper  followed,  but  in  his  hand  he  kept  two  Bank 
of  England  notes. 

He  thrust  out  his  arm  and  pushed  the  money  closer  to 
Victoria. 

"  Do  you  see  ? "  he  demanded  hoarsely,  fluttering  first 
one  note  and  then  the  other,  "  one  thousand  pounds— one 
thousand  pounds.     What  the  deuce  does  it  mean  ?  " 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  195 

Victoria  picked  up  the  paper  which  had  fallen  on  the 
hearthrug.  "  Surely,"  she  said.,  "  the  letter  will  ex- 
plain." 

He  took  it  from  her  quickly  and  unfolded  the  single 
sheet.  Five  words  were  written  on  it  and  he  read  them 
hastily — "  A  reparation  and  a  restitution,"  he  repeated. 

For  one  moment  he  looked  completely  mystified,  then 
his  face  lighted  up  with  a  very  boyish  glee.  "  By  Jove," 
he  exclaimed,  "  good  old  Buzby !  " 

"  Buzby?  "  echoed  Victoria.  "  Edward  Buzby — what  has 
Edward  Buzby  to  do  with  this?" 

"  He  must  have  sent  it,"  Billy  ran  on  impetuously.  He 
looked  from  her  to  Aimee. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  he  explained.  "  It's  as  clear  as  day- 
light. This  restitution  is  from  Buzby.  He's  sent  me  back 
£2,000 — first  instalment  of  my  own  money.  It's  as  I  said," 
Billy  went  on,  and  he  threw  back  his  head  as  though  defy- 
ing anyone  to  disagree  with  him.  "  The  poor  chap  wasn't 
a  wrong  'un.  It's  only  that  he  was  overdriven  and  some- 
thing gave  way  a  bit.  I  suppose  now,  when  he's  steadied 
down  and  had  time  to  remember  what's  what,  he's  started 
to  set  things  right  again." 

"  I  wonder,"  returned  Victoria,  "  if  you  are  right." 

"Who'd  send  it  if  Buzby  didn't?"  Billy  demanded. 
"  Folks  don't  put  £2,000  into  an  envelope  for  the  pleasure 
of  licking  up  the  flap.  Now  do  they?"  he  concluded 
aggressively. 

Victoria  could  only  shake  her  head,  and  Billy  went  on 
joyfully  to  say  that  "  Brazil  might  take  care  of  itself — 
he'd  go  on  the  Antarctic."  That,  of  course,  entailed  an 
explanation,  but  it  didn't  take  Victoria  long  to  learn  the 
details  of  the  Brazilian  scheme  and  how  Paul  Marketel 
had  opposed  it. 

"  Pauh"  she  said,  fastening  on  that,  "  Paul  advised  you 
against  it?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Billy.  He  looked  significantly  at 
Aimee  and  the  girl  required  no  further  hint.  She  left 
him  with  Victoria,  and  Billy  looked  at  the  door  for  quite 


196  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

a  moment  after  it  was  closed.  Then  he  straightened 
himself. 

"  I'm  a  selfish  pig,"  he  began.  "  Buzby's  sending  back 
that  money  put  everything  else  clean  out  of  my  head,  but 
I  want  to  ask  you  a  question,  Victoria." 

"  What  question  ?  "  she  faltered. 

He  looked  at  her  very  straight. 

"  Would  you  mind  telling  me,"  he  asked,  "  is  there  any- 
one you  like  better  than  me?" 

"Oh!  Billy,"  she  cried  back,  "what  made  you  say  that? 
Who  has  been  telling  you?" 

He  came  up  to  her  and  took  her  hand. 

"  No  one  has  told  me  as  much  as  you  yourself  have 
now,"  he  said. 

She  hung  her  head  and  he  looked  down  at  her  with  a 
very  tender  yet  far-detached  smile. 

"  Do  you  care  as  much  as  that — for  the  other  man  ?  " 
he  asked. 

Victoria  nodded  silently, 

"  Well  then,"  said  Billy,  "  I'll  go  to  him.  I'll  make  it 
all  right.     He  cares  too  ?  " 

Victoria  bent  her  head  a  little  lower. 

"  Billy,"  she  protested,  "  I  don't  want  to  behave  badly 
to  yon — neither  does " 

"  Marketel,"  rounded  off  Billy. 

He  went  to  the  window  and  looked  out.  The  sun  was 
pouring  down  the  street.  The  geraniums  in  the  boxes 
before  him  had  taken  on  that  added  depth  of  tone  which 
sunshine  bestows  on  all  pink  flowers.  But  Billy  wasn't 
thinking  of  Nature  or  of  the  beauty  of  it,  his  mind  was 
filled  with  the  sense  that  other  men  were  not  as  he  was. 
For  him,  sport,  adventure,  were  the  dominant  passions. 
With  Paul  Marketel,  hard-headed  as  he  was,  it  was  evi- 
dently otherwise, — with  Roger  too.  They  were  both  of 
them  men  who  had  done  things — who  had  affected  their 
surroundings — changed  the  complexion  of  one  event,  or 
two :  and  yet  for  both  of  them,  the  woman  of  their  choice 
was  evidently  the  primary  necessity. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  197 

**  Lord ! "  summed  up  Billy  Hirst,  "  women  do  seem  to 
be  a  heap  of  trouble  to  some  men!" 

He  came  back  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Victoria. 

"  I'm  going  straight  to  Paul,"  he  said,  "  I  shall  make 
things  all  right  with  him." 

Victoria  colored  until  all  her  face,  her  neck,  her  very 
ears,  were  dyed  scarlet,  but  she  uttered  no  protest.  She 
was  not  only  a  brave  woman — she  was  a  fine-minded  one. 
She  loved  Paul,  and  she  was  sufficiently  true  to  her 
woman's  nature  not  to  throw  in  his  way  any  petty  ob- 
stacles, born  of  the  timidity  which  burkes  Nature  in 
favor  of  a  narrow  conventionality. 

But  Billy  Hirst  was  not  fated  to  see  Paul  Marketel 
that  day,  for  he  arrived  at  the  big  house  just  an  hour  after 
Paul  and  Roger  had  started  off  in  the  car  for  their  ap- 
pointment with  the  detective. 

Harold  Carson  occupied  a  flat  on  the  top  story  of  one 
of  those  residential  rabbit-warrens  overlooking  the  park. 
There  was  nothing  in  the  locality,  still  less  in  the  look  of 
the  flat,  with  its  lights  subdued  under  green  shades  and  a 
few  bits  of  fine  statuary  showing  in  the  tiny  square  hall, 
to  suggest  the  man  who  made  his  daily  bread  by  unearth- 
ing precisely  those  secrets  which  those  most  concerned 
hoped  they  had  buried  or  put  behind  them  for  ever. 

Roger  and  Marketel  reached  the  detective's  house  only 
two  or  three  minutes  after  the  appointed  time. 

A  middle-aged  man-servant  showed  them  into  a  small 
library,  and  Harold  Carson  himself  rose  as  they  entered. 

He  had  been  reading  when  they  were  announced,  and 
Paul  was  curious  enough  to  glance  at  the  title  of  the  book 
— it  was  an  early  edition  of  the  "  Romance  de  la  Rose." 
Somehow  the  mere  suggestion  of  such  literary  proclivities 
seemed  hopeful  to  Paul. 

Carson  had  met  Roger  before.  He  held  out  a  firm  white 
hand  as  Marketel  was  mentioned  to  him,  and  looked  from 
one  man  to  the  other  with  a  smile  of  inquiry. 

For  a  moment  none  of  the  three  present  spoke.     They 


198  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

were  all  men  of  action,  and  they  who  make  history,  public 
or  private,  are  well  aware  that  on  all  momentous  occasions 
he  who  listens  has  the  advantage  over  him  who  speaks. 

At  last  Carson  gave  a  lead. 

"You  wanted  to  consult  me  professionally?"  he  in- 
quired. 

"  I  expect  you  can  guess  what  about  ?  "  answered  Roger, 
plunging  into  the  matter  in  that  abrupt  manner  which  had 
only  come  to  him  in  the  last  forty-eight  hours. 

"  I  never  anticipate,"  answered  Harold  Carson  with  a 
careful  smile. 

It  was  here  that  Paul  took  up  the  argument. 

"  Mr.  Carson,"  he  said — "  I  take  it  that  you  read  the 
daily  papers?  " 

"  Generally,"  admitted  the  little  man  mildly. 

"  Then  you  are  conversant  with  the  theft  of  the  Chinese 
memorandum?  " 

"You  take  it  to  be  a  theft?"  the  detective  asked. 

"  In  the  name  of  goodness,  what  else  could  it  be  ?  "  Paul 
asked. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  Mr.  Carson  said,  "  so  many  things  are 
not  what  they  seem." 

"  The  thief  must  be  found,"  Paul  continued  grimly,  "  no 
stone  must  be  left  unturned,  no  expense  must  be  spared." 

It  was  a  moment  before  Harold  Carson  spoke.  He 
looked  from  one  face  to  the  other.  Paul  asked  himself 
if  this  man  too,  on  the  first  blush,  had  accepted  the  easy 
solution  of  Roger's  guilt. 

"  Tell  me  exactly  what  you  both  know,"  he  said,  "  but  one 
at  a  time,  please.  Will  you  tell  me  the  whole  of  the  cir- 
cumstances as  they  appear  to  you,  Sir  Roger,  and  then 
I  shall  ask  Mr.  Marketel  to  give  me  his  version.  In  the 
meantime,"  he  went  on,  addressing  Paul,  "  will  you  sit  in 
that  chair  there  ?  "  indicating  one  a  little  apart,  "  and  please 
don't  speak.  If  you  think  that  Sir  Roger  omits  anything, 
or  makes  any  mistake,  you  can  correct  it  when  you  come 
to  give  your  version." 

Paul  stepped  aside.     He  had  been  under  cross-examina- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  199 

tion  more  than  once,  and  he  knew  that  many  a  barrister 
holds  that  a  man  allowed  to  tell  his  own  story  in  his  own 
way,  proves  or  disproves  his  innocence  in  the  process. 

Roger  began  at  once.  He  carefully  recapitulated  the 
events  of  the  week-end  at  Zouche  as  he  remembered 
them. 

When  he  had  finished,  Carson  asked  but  one  question. 
**  Have  you  any  new  servants  at  Zouche  ?  "  he  said. 

"  They  have  all  been  with  my  mother  for  years,"  Roger 
answered. 

"  And  you  can  answer  for  them  ?  " 

"  For  every  one  of  them — leave  them  out  of  your  mind." 

The  detective  merely  nodded  and  turned   to   Marketel. 

"  Please,"  he  said,  "  will  you  give  me  your  version.  Be- 
gin as  if  you  did  not  know  that  Sir  Roger  had  told  me 
anything,  and  never  mind  how  much  repetition  there  is  in 
what  you  say." 

Paul  went  as  carefully  through  the  incidents  from  his 
angle  as  Roger  had  done  from  his. 

When  he  finished,  Carson  made  no  comment  at  all.  The 
detective  sat  back  in  his  chair  and  smoked  one  cigarette 
after  the  other.  At  last  he  rose  and  walked  to  the  mantel- 
piece. He  put  his  back  against  the  shelf  and  arranged 
his  position  carefully  so  that  he  could  keep  both  men  under 
his  eye. 

"  There  seems  only  one  possible  conclusion,"  he  began. 

"  And  that  is  ?  "  broke  in  Roger  impatiently. 

"  That  the  Chinese  memorandum  was  stolen  from 
within." 

"  From  within  ?  "  repeated  Roger.    "  I  don't  understand." 

"  I  should  say  it  was  stolen  by  someone  staying  in  the 
house:  by  someone  who  knew  the  ways  of  the  house," 
the  detective  went  on.  "  That  is  why  I  asked  if  you  had 
recently  engaged  a  new  servant.  Such  a  servant  might 
have  been  an  accomplice  introduced  for  that  express  pur- 
pose." 

"  But  I  tell  you,"  Roger  protested,  "  there  was  no  new 
servant," 


200  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Then,"  returned  Harold  Carson,  "  that  narrows  it 
down " 

He  stopped  and  looked  from  one  man  to  the  other. 

"To  one  of  us?"  Paul  exclaimed,  understanding  him 
first,  and  he  threw  back  his  head  with  a  gesture  of  denial. 

"To  one  of  my  friends — to  one  of  the  house  party — 
impossible,"  decided  Roger  vehemently. 

The  detective  smiled  and  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  The  people  who  were  staying  in  the  house  that  day 
are  all  old  friends,  I  can  answer  for  them  as  for  myself," 
Roger  went  on. 

"For  all  of  them?"  asked  Carson. 

Roger  made  a  step  forward. 

"  Mr.  Carson,"  he  said  indignantly,  "  are  you  venturing 
to  suggest  anything  against  any  particular  guest?" 

"  One  can  never  be  sure  of  an  Oriental,"  the  little  man 
answered.  "  That  was  what  was  in  my  mind — their 
standard  is  not  ours " 

"  His  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  was  one  of  my 
father's  most  trusted  friends,"  Roger  explained.  "  Since 
my  father's  death,  he  has  transferred  a  large  part  of  his 
afifection  to  me  and  my  mother.  You  may  dismiss  from 
your  mind  any  thought  that  he  would  do  anything  detri- 
mental to  my  interests." 

"  I  am  sorry,"  returned  Carson,  but  with  a  very  im- 
penitent air,  "  I  merely  put  forward  a  racial  possibility,  it 
was  no  reflection  on  the  Marquis  himself." 

Roger  merely  nodded.  Paul  was  watching  him  nar- 
rowly. He  could  see  how  the  fastidious  nature  was  fretted 
by  the  mere  mention  of  treachery  among  those  around  him. 
But  what  was  to  follow  was  destined  to  irk  Roger  far 
more. 

"  I  take  it,"  Carson  went  on,  "  that  you  want  something 
more  than  my  opinion,  you  wish  me  to  arrive  at  facts  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Roger,  but  doubtfully,  for  Mr.  Carson's 
comments  had  not  helped  him— on  the  contrary,  they  irri- 
tated him,  "we  asked  you  to  see  us  for  that." 

"I  never  undertake  work  unless  I  am  allowed  a   free 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  201 

hand,"  Carson  said  next.  "  In  this  instance,  I  should  wish 
to  come  down  to  Zouche  to  see  the  scene  of  the  theft, 
to  make  investigations  on  the  spot." 

"  I  see  no  objections,  at  present,  to  that,"  Roger  an- 
swered cautiously. 

"  But  to  attain  to  any  useful  end,"  Carson  announced, 
"  I  must  see  each  person  who  was  present  in  your  house 
that  day — men  and  women — guests  and  servants.  I  must 
be  permitted  to  put  what  questions  I  think  fit  to  them." 

"  To  the  women  as  well  as  the  men  ?  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

"  Precisely,"  answered  Mr.  Carson. 

Roger  fell  back.  He  looked  at  Paul.  How  did  such  a 
proposition  as  this  strike  Paul?  Would  Paul  care  to  see, 
nay,  would  he  tolerate  any  inquisitorial  inquiries  as  to 
Victoria  Cresswell's  movements?  Roger  felt  confident  that 
Paul  would  resent  such  a  proceeding  as  emphatically  as 
he  himself  would  resent  it  in  the  case  of  Naomi  Melsham. 

"  Mr.  Carson,"  he  said,  "  you  must  see  that  I  could  not 
propose  such  an  indignity  to  my  guests." 

"  It  would  be  distasteful,  I  know,"  Carson  answered 
tolerantly,  "  but  it  is  the  only  way  if  I  am  to  make  a  com- 
plete investigation." 

"  Then,"  shot  back  Roger,  "  the  investigation  must  re- 
main incomplete." 

The  next  moment  he  realized  that  he  could  not  afiford 
to  say  that.  Only  a  free  unveiling  of  facts  and  circum- 
stances could  clear  him.  He  fell  back  on  one  of  the  oldest 
of  compromises. 

"  There  must  be  some  other  way,"  he  said. 

"  What  other  way  ?  "  asked  Carson,  with  more  than  a 
trifle  of  obstinacy. 

It  was  here  that  Paul  came  to  Roger's  help. 

"  Suppose  you  begin  with  the  tail  instead  of  the  head," 
he  said.  "  I  suggest,  Mr.  Carson,  that  you  begin  by  dis- 
covering who  sold  the  memorandum  to  the  Olympic 
people." 

"  Exactly,"  Roger  interposed.  "  Once  we  unmask  him, 
we  shall  have  the  key  to  the  whole  mystery." 


202  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  I  suppose  you  have  been  to  see  them  already  ?  " 

"  We  have,"  Paul  answered.  "  We  saw  Vancrest  him- 
self— but  he  would  tell  us  nothing." 

"  Of  course  not,"  the  detective  commented. 

"  We  must  find  out  in  spite  of  him,"  Roger  thrust  in. 
He  looked  at  the  little  man  facing  him.  "  Yes,  Mr.  Car- 
son," he  said,  "  first  accomplish  that, — then  it  will  be  time 
to  think  of  coming  down  to  Zouche." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

Naomi  Melsham  could  never  quite  remember  what  fol- 
lowed on  that  fateful  morning  immediately  after  her 
announcement  that  she  intended  to  marry  Roger.  She  had 
a  confused  notion  that  she  found  herself  alone  with  him, 
that  he  held  her  close  protesting  his  love,  his  gratitude, 
and  then  he  suddenly  pulled  up  and  made  so  decided  a 
movement  of  withdrawal  that  the  exaltation  was  dashed 
with  dismay.  It  was,  she  repeated  to  herself  when  she 
came  to  think  of  it  later,  but  a  momentary  movement, 
indeed  she  tried  to  persuade  herself  that  she  was  mistaken 
in  its  import,  but  all  the  same,  it  had  a  most  decided  effect 
on  her.  Without  it,  she  might  not  have  withdrawn  her- 
self, might  not  have  hurried  away  to  her  own  room. 

She  sat  there  up  in  the  turret,  her  low  chair  drawn  close 
to  the  fire,  and  she  waited  anxiously.  She  had  offered 
herself  once,  the  second  time  Roger  must  send  for  her. 

She  heard  a  certain  coming  and  going  without.  She  sup- 
posed the  other  guests  were  leaving,  but  she  would  not  so 
much  as  appear  at  the  window — not  by  a  movement,  not 
by  a  sign  would  she  recall  herself  to  any  member  of  the 
De  la  Haye  household.  All  the  same,  her  whole  being  was 
alert,  waiting  for  the  approach  of  a  messenger  with  a  note 
from  Roger — waiting,  possibly,  for  the  appearance  of 
Lady  de  la  Haye  herself. 

More  than  once  she  heard  the  coming  of  footsteps — they 
came  down  the  corridor — nearer — then  they  went  on. 
Someone  had  passed  her  door,  not  knocked  upon  it,  and  each 
time  a,  revulsion  which  made  her  heart  beat  quicker  told 
her  how  eagerly  she  was  awaiting  the  message. 

At  last  it  came.  Someone  stopped  before  her  door, 
knocked,  and  demanded  admittance. 

It  was  a  maid  with  a  note.     At  a  glance  Naomi  saw 

203 


204  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

that  the  direction  was  in  Roger's  writing.  She  took  the 
envelope  and  let  it  lie  in  her  lap  until  she  was  alone  again. 
Even  then  she  lingered.  What,  she  asked  herself,  had 
he  found  to  say  to  her?  He  evidently  expected  her  to 
answer  in  person,  since  the  maid  had  received  no  orders 
to  wait. 

She  broke  the  seal.  Whatever  Roger  had  said  he  had 
said  it  in  a  few  words,  since  not  even  the  back  of  the 
sheet  was  written  on.  She  unfolded  it  and  glanced 
down. 

"  Oh !  "  she  exclaimed  aloud  in  her  involuntary  dismay. 
This  letter  that  she  had  watched  for,  that  she  had  longed 
for,  began  with  a  formal  "  Dear  Miss  Melsham." 

For  one  moment,  every  vein  in  Naomi's  body  tingled 
with  shame.  Had  she  offered  herself  merely  to  be  re- 
jected? The  next  instant,  she  knew  that  there  must  be 
some  further  explanation.  She  read  down  the  few  lines 
of  hard,  difficult  words.  Roger  told  her,  almost  as  briefly 
as  he  had  told  his  mother,  that  he  would  not  take  advan- 
tage of  her  generosity,  that  he  was  going  away. 

Her  first  impulse  was  to  rise — to  pull  the  bell,  to  send 
anyone — everyone,  to  stop  him — then  her  hand  fell  to  her 
side.  One  of  the  motors  that  she  heard  setting  out  from 
the  entrance  probably  had  him  among  its  passengers. 
Besides,  could  she  stop  him?  Could  she  cry  to  him  to 
return?  She  rose.  The  four  walls  of  her  room  had 
suddenly  become  intolerable  to  her.  She  wanted  move- 
ment. She  wanted  space — the  cold  wind  of  the  gray  day 
to  strike  her  face — if  it  were  to  rain,  and  the  drizzle  were 
to  wet  her,  all  the  better. 

As  a  matter  of  duty,  she  habitually  took  a  daily  walk. 
Not  that  exercise  was  a  pleasure,  it  was  a  toll  paid  to  the 
fact  that  her  face  was  her  fortune.  She  walked  so  much 
every  day,  to  keep  her  complexion  clear,  just  as  she  did 
gymnastics  every  morning  after  her  bath,  to  keep  a  slim 
figure  and  supple  limbs.  But  this  time,  the  exercise  was 
a  prescription  for  her  mind,  not  for  her  body.  She  stole 
downstairs.      She   stayed  peeping  into   the   hall   until   she 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  205 

was  sure  that  no  one  was  about.  She  sh'pped  through  the 
door  on  to  the  terrace,  and  then  hurried  down  from  the 
terrace  into  the  park.  Even  that  was  not  enough.  She 
hastened  down  the  drive,  eager  to  get  away  from  the 
vicinity  of  Roger's  house.  She  wanted  not  only  to  think, 
but  to  make  quite  sure  of  what  she  must  do.  She  saw  that 
taking  "  Life "  into  one's  own  hands  and  attempting  to 
mold  it,  as  a  sculptor  turns  that  which  a  moment  before 
had  been  but  a  lump  of  clay,  into  a  beautiful  statue,  was 
not  quite  so  easy  a  process  as  she  imagined.  She  went 
back  mentally  to  the  beginning  of  her  day.  She  lived 
again  the  horror  of  the  moment  when  she  heard  that  Roger 
was  to  be  held  accountable  for  the  loss  of  the  memo- 
randum. She  went  through  the  interview  with  him.  All 
the  time  she  had  been  near  him,  while  she  had  been  plead- 
ing with  him,  her  feeling  for  him  had  not  merely  dwarfed 
her  remorse,  it  had  obliterated  it.  She  had  offered  herself 
to  him  with  an  entire  singleness  of  motive, — wholly  and 
solely  because  she  loved  him.  Now,  a  juster  estimate  of 
the  case  would  intrude  itself.  Nothing  could  alter  the 
cardinal  fact  that  she,  Naomi,  was  responsible  for  the  posi- 
tion in  which  Roger  found  himself.  There  were  extenuat- 
ing circumstances,  she  held  on  tight  to  that.  She  had 
been  driven,  enmeshed,  but  no  extenuation  did  anything 
to  alter  the  vital  point  of  the  situation.  The  blame  of 
what  she  had  done  was  falling  on  Roger,  She  walked 
rapidly  down  the  park.  She  turned  into  a  track  along 
the  side  of  the  plantation.  The  rain  that  she  had  wished 
for  had  come.  It  was  driving  along  towards  the  belt  of 
trees,  and  a  breeze  which  got  up  among  the  beech  leaves 
sent  sprays  of  moisture  over  her  as  she  went  along. 

Naomi  was  usually,  like  the  most  part  of  those  who  live 
most  of  their  lives  in  Continental  resorts,  exceedingly  sen- 
sitive to  atmospheric  discomforts — today,  wet,  damp  mud, 
the  grass-fringed  path,  with  each  spiky  blade  ready  to 
pour  its  drops  of  water  on  to  her  skirt  or  into  her  boots, 
seemed  part  of  the  unreasonable  whole.  For  as  she 
walked,  her  mood  was  in  a  state  of  flow  and  flux.     She 


2o6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

passed  through  exultation,  she  emerged  even  beyond  re- 
morse, she  found  herself  angered  against  Fate,  arraigning 
circumstances  for  its  obvious  unfairness. 

She  asked  reproachfully  why  she  had  been  tempted  so 
urgently,  and  then  seeing  that  she  had  succumbed  so  un- 
willingly, why  the  consequences  had  been  so  much  farther- 
reaching  than  she  had  any  chance  of  anticipating.  It  was 
like  being  commanded  to  play  a  new  game  and  being 
refused  a  sight  of  the  rules. 

As  she  passed  the  head  of  the  copse  and  mounted  a 
stile  into  the  glebe  meadow,  there  was  one  solution  she 
glanced  at,  only  to  turn  away — that  was — confession ; 
for  she  knew  that  to  proclaim  her  complicity  would  end 
her  relations  with  Roger.  Some  men  can  forgive  and  go  on 
loving.  Some  men  can  perceive  and  go  on  loving.  Some 
men  can  overlook  and  go  on  loving.  With  all  of  them 
attraction  is  stronger  than  esteem,  desire  is  more  than 
fulfilment,  and  body  more  than  the  soul.  But  Roger  would 
not  love  an  hour  were  his  passion  deprived  of  its  spiritual 
support.  He  offered  the  higher  part  of  himself,  and  that 
higher  must  of  necessity  refuse  to  knowingly  mate  with 
anything  less  than  the  equivalent. 

The  end  of  the  meadow  brought  her  in  sight  of  the 
church,  but  as  soon  as  she  saw  it  she  turned  about 
abruptly.  It  stood  for  the  ordered,  the  peaceful,  the  long- 
established,  and  her  mind  was  all  in  confusion. 

She  went  back  as  far  as  the  stile  and  sat  down  on  the 
top  step.  Before  she  returned  to  Zouche,  she  must  have 
a  settled  plan.  Then  a  little  gleam  of  sunshine  came 
through  the  trees,  and  her  face  became  soft  again — tender. 

She  loved  Roger.  Faults,  failings,  destiny  itself,  could 
not  take  that  joy  from  her.  Nature  had  made  her  a 
large-minded  woman  with  a  great  power  of  devotion.  If 
she  was  devious,  it  was  the  fault  of  her  upbringing.  Yet 
the  very  strength  of  her  feeling  misled  her — blinded  her. 
She  looked  at  the  sunlight,  and  resolved  to  cling  to  Roger 
whatever  it  might  cost  her.  The  deed  was  done,  the 
memorandum   copied,    its   contents   made   public:   nothing 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  207 

could  bring  back  things  to  what  they  had  been  when  the 
old  Chinaman  entered  Zouche  de  la  Haye,  nothing  could 
restore  to  Roger  the  confidence  of  the  Foreign  Office. 
What  could  not  be  changed  must  be  made  endurable. 

Naomi  Melsham  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  lifted  her  chin, 
and  threw  back  her  head.  She  knew  now  what  she  must 
(Jo — nay,  so  little  did  she  estimate  that  she  told  herself 
confidently — that  at  last  she  had  come  to  the  solution. 
She  must  so  wind  herself  into  the  procession  of  Roger's 
days,  so  identify  herself  with  him,  so  interpose  her  person- 
ality between  him  and  disappointment,  so  fill  his  life,  that 
frustrated  ambition  would  have  no  chance  to  goad  or  irk 
him,  that  disgrace  would  hardly  cast  a  shadow  over  his  days. 
There,  she  told  herself,  she  had  discovered  how  to 
recompense  Roger  for  the  wrong  she  had  unwittingly 
done  him.  There  lay  not  only  his  happiness,  but  her  ex- 
piation. The  more  she  reflected,  the  more  the  offering  of 
herself  seemed  to  take  the  scarlet  out  of  her  sin:  until,  at 
last,  she  all  but  reduced  her  mind  to  an  acceptance  of  the 
notion — a  typically  feminine  one,  maybe,  since  the  conse- 
quence is  usually  the  rod  laid  heaviest  on  a  woman's  shoul- 
ders— that  a  sin  is  hardly  a  sin  if  the  perpetrator  but 
makes  it  up  to  the  victim  in  sufficiently  ample  measure. 

In  other  words,  she  contrived  to  so  separate  her  affec- 
tion from  her  failings  that  they  seemed  to  her  as  much 
apart  as  if  they  were  the  north  and  south  aspect  of  a 
house-^both  parts  of  one  whole  and  both  entirely  inde- 
pendent of  each  other. 

When  Naomi  Melsham  had  impressed  that  on  her  will- 
ing mind,  she  hurried  back  to  Zouche  and  as  she  pulled 
up  a  moment  in  the  hall,  it  was  to  send  a  message  to 
Roger's  mother  asking  when  she  might  see  her. 

Word  came  back  that  Lady  de  la  Haye  was  in  the 
Queen  Anne  sitting-room  and  would  see  her  about  four 
o'clock.  The  girl  glanced  at  the  watch  on  her  wrist.  She 
had  hardly  more  than  time  to  change  her  gown  and  dress 
her  hair.  The  wind  had  blown  her  about,  it  is  true,  but 
whatever  the  weather  might  have  been,  her  instinct  would 


2o8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

have  prompted  her  to  make  a  careful  toilette.  She  had 
been  so  taught  the  art  of  enhancing  nature,  by  an  effective 
setting,  that  it  had  grown  to  be  second  nature. 

She  went  up  swiftly  to  the  large  room,  with  its  semi- 
circle of  windows,  and  stood  before  the  open  doors  of  the 
wardrobe.  She  rejected  a  black  dress.  It  might  be  set 
down  as  theatrical.  She  passed  by  a  purple,  though  it 
especially  showed  off  her  coloring :  it  might  be  called 
garish.  Finally,  she  settled  on  a  very  soft  gray,  and  then 
she  sat  down,  watch  in  hand,  until  the  hands  pointed  to 
five  minutes  to  four. 

It  took  her  only  a  very  few  minutes  to  reach  the  Queen 
Anne  room.  Her  fingers  did  not  even  tremble  as  she 
turned  the  handle.  She  had  never  approached  Lady  de 
la  Haye  with  more  confidence.  Up  till  now,  she  had  al- 
ways been  a  little  afraid  of  those  discovering  eyes :  of  that 
mind,  quick  to  piece  inconvenient  admissions  into  an 
equally  inconvenient  whole. 

"  I  am  glad  you  asked  to  see  me,"  began  Lady  de  la 
Haye,  "  I  felt  that  we  must  have  a  little  talk  together 
before  you  left  me  tomorrow." 

"  You  do  not  want  to  see  me  more  than  I  want  to  see 
you,"  the  girl  answered,  and  with  that  air  of  self-possession 
which  was  peculiarly  one  of  her  attractions,  she  selected 
a  chair,  pulled  it  away  from  the  light,  and  sat  down. 

But  when  Naomi  began  her  moving  appeal,  she  found 
that  Roger's  mother  was  by  no  means  prepared  to  go 
whole-heartedly  with  her. 

"  Surely  you  understand  that  I  think  of  Roger  before 
anyone  or  anything  else  in  the  world,"  she  cried  out  in 
her  dismay. 

Amabelle  waited  a  little  before  she  answered.  She 
wished  not  only  to  be  just,  but  generous. 

"  My  dear,"  she  began  at  length,  "  I  am  afraid  your 
heart  has  carried  you  away.  You  are  young  and,  evi- 
dently, very  generous.  But,  wait,  try  to  realize  what  the 
dead  level  of  your  life  as  Roger's  wife  under  the  new 
circumstances  would  be." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  209' 

Naomi  looked  up  quickly.  She  did  not  like  the  term 
"  dead  level."    In  spite  of  herself,  she  shuddered. 

"  Try,"  went  on  Amabelle,  seeing  that  she  had  made  an 
impression — "  to  realize  what  it  would  be  like  to  live  all 
day,  and  every  other  day,  under  a  cloud  of  suspicion. 
Never  to  be  quite  sure  of  the  attitude  of  your  acquaint- 
ances. Never  to  be  free  from  the  dread  of  what  might 
be  said  when  you  left  the  room.  Never  to  be  safe  from 
the  contemptuous  pity  of  those  who  would  give  you  the 
benefit  of  the  doubt." 

"  I  can't  see  why  if  someone  did  print  the  Chinese 
memorandum  in  the  newspapers  it  should  matter  so  much," 
Naomi  cried  out  wrathfully. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  looked  up  as  if  she  heard  a  warning 
note. 

"  My  dear,"  she  protested.  "  You  must  know  the  dif- 
ference between  honor  and  dishonor." 

Naomi  bit  her  lips.  She  plucked  nervously  at  her  fine 
handkerchief.  Truth  peeps  out  of  the  most  unexpected 
corners.  Did  she  really  know  that  distinction,  did  she 
appreciate  it,  apprehend  it  in  its  finer  manifestations,  or 
was  there  a  moral  line  too  fine  for  her  sensibility  to  per- 
ceive  ? 

The  thought  hurt  her  so  much  that  Naomi  Melsham 
realized  a  new  factor  had  come  into  her  life.  Her  love 
for  Roger  was  not  only  to  be  the  joy  of  her  days  but  their 
torture  also.  Nature  may  spare  a  man  the  consequences 
of  his  misdoings,  but  she  prepares  a  refinement  of  cruelty 
in  the  way  of  expiation  for  a  woman.  Let  Eve  have  but 
once  eaten  the  apple,  and  though  even  if  she  repent  with 
tears  and  lamentation,  her  heart  will  lose  no  occasion  to 
remind  her  that,  though  she  do  her  best  to  wash  herself 
clean,  that  does  nothing  to  alter  the  fact  that  once  she 
rolled  in  the  mud. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  marked  the  downward  droop  of  the 
golden  head,  the  falling  of  the  supple  shoulders. 

"  My  dear,"  she  cried  out  quickly,  for  she  never  could 
take  advantage  of   a   worsted  adversary,   "  I   am   sure   I 


2IO  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

understand.  You  did  not  really  mean  what  you  said. 
You  were  rebelling  against  the  injustice  to  Roger." 

Naomi  made  herself  nod  an  acquiescence.  She  per- 
ceived that  today  there  was  but  one  link,  and  that  the 
placing  of  Roger  first,  between  herself  and  this  fine- 
minded  woman. 

"  Thank  you,"  she  said,  "  I  am  glad  you  realize  how  very 
much  Roger  is  to  me." 

Amabelle  looked  round  the  room  so  intimately  impressed 
with  her  individuality.  For  the  second  time  in  twelve 
hours,  her  boy's  future  hung  in  the  balance  and  yet  she 
told  herself  everything  was  going  on  as  if  it  were  an 
ordinary  day  at  Zouche.  She  felt  as  if  even  inanimate 
nature  should  have  turned  out  of  its  course  and  it  seemed 
almost  purposefully  inconsiderate  on  their  part  that  the 
chairs  should  stand  on  their  four  legs  and  the  tables  go 
on  fulfilling  their  functions  as  tables,  just  as  they  had 
done  when  everything  was  peaceful  and  serene. 

It  was  Naomi  who  broke  the  silence. 

"  Lady  de  la  Haye,"  she  said,  "  why  do  you  say  all  this 
to  me?" 

"  For  the  same  reason,"  answered  Amabelle,  "  that 
makes  Roger  leave  you  today.  Neither  my  son  nor  I 
would  take  advantage  of  your  generosity." 

"  It  isn't  generosity,"  Naomi  protested,  for  she  was  re- 
duced to  very  plain  speaking,  "  it's  love." 

"  Then,"  said  Roger's  mother,  "  I  will  put  it  in  another 
way.  Do  you  think  your  love  will  be  strong  enough  to 
stand  the  daily  round  of  your  life  with  Roger?  Is  your 
love  strong  enough,"  she  emphasized  as  Naomi  made  a  pro- 
testing gesture,  "  to  make  you  think  first,  to  make  you 
think  always,  of  a  man  who  will  be  broken  by  dis- 
grace, bruised  by  no  fault  of  his  own?  Are  you  strong 
enough  to  make  allowance — an  allowance  large  enough, 
ample  enough,  for  a  man  soured  by  an  unjust  accusation? 
I  foresee  that  Roger  will  not  be  easy  to  live  with,  that 
there  will  be  many  thorns  and  few  roses  along  the  path  of 
anyone  who  walks  by  his  side  now.    Think  of  all  that — and, 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  211 

if  you  can't  depend  on  yourself,  take  advantage  of  his  letter 
and  go  away  now." 

"  It  would  half  kill  me,"  gasped  Naomi. 

"  It  is  better  to  die  by  one  blow,  than  to  gasp  out  one's 
life  by  inches."  maintained  Lady  de  la  Haye  stubbornly. 

Naomi  bowed  her  head.  She  understood.  Lady  de  la 
Haye  had  given  her  the  chance  to  retreat.  If  she  stayed, 
Roger's  mother  would  never  spare  her. 

She  sat  still  for  quite  a  long  time,  and  Lady  de  la  Haye 
was  so  determined  not  to  hurry  the  answer  by  so  much  as 
a  gesture,  that,  agitated  as  she  was,  she  took  up  some  knit- 
ting. She  kept  the  needles  moving  rapidly,  clicking  evenly 
as  they  worked  off  row  after  row. 

She  had  made  the  position  clear  and  she  was  too  wise  to 
obscure  it  with  a  multitude  of  words.  She  glanced  at  the 
clock.  Time,  she  had  observed,  generally  took  a  hand  in 
the  crises  of  human  existence. 

Littleport  always  brought  tea  into  this  room  when  there 
were  no  men  guests  in  the  house.  But,  first,  he  would  come 
in  with  the  afternoon  letters. 

While  Sir  Arthur  lived,  he  and  his  wife  had  made  quite  a 
festival  of  the  tete-a-tete  meals.  It  had  been  a  moment  of 
deep  intimacy.  A  time  when  their  feelings  for  each  other 
were  strong  enough  to  banish  any  worry,  small  or  great,  that 
might  arrive  under  the  cover  of  a  postage  stamp.  All 
through  Roger's  life  this  hour,  too,  had  been  a  time  apart. 
Amabelle  as  she  lifted  her  eyes  from  the  old  clock,  with  its 
moon  face  topping  its  long  body  of  walnut  and  Dutch  inlay, 
glanced  once  at  Naomi,  then  she  went  carefully  back  to  the 
knitting. 

At  length  the  tall  girl  rose.  Slowly  she  put  her  chair 
aside.  She  walked  round  it  and  stood  against  the  white 
mantelpiece,  with  its  inlaid  medallions  of  Adam  design, 
with  its  dignity  of  design,  of  line,  which  showed  ofif  her  own 
beauty;  she  put  up  one  arm  on  the  narrow  shelf. 

"  You  are  quite  right  to  think  it  will  take  me  all  my  time 
to  live  up  to  Roger,"  she  returned,  "  but  not  for  the  reason 
you  give,  but  because  I  myself " 


212  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

She  stopped — she  could  not  dissect  her  own  heart — 
equally,  she  could  not  expose  her  own  motive.  She  fell 
back  on  crude  assertion. 

"  I  do  not  fear  anything,"  she  announced,  "  neither  un- 
pleasantness nor  worse  as  long  as  Roger  looks  to  me  for 
happiness :  as  long  as  I  make  the  happiest  part  of  his  life." 
She  moved  a  pace  away  from  the  support  of  the  marble 
shelf.     She  stood  up  straight,  assertive. 

"  Please  believe  that,"  she  added. 

"  And,"  she  continued,  "  I  mean  to  try  to  make  him 
happy." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  heard  the  decision. 

"  I  think  only  of  Roger,"  she  returned. 

Naomi  looked  at  the  graceful  white-haired  woman 
oddly. 

It  suddenly  occurred  to  her  that  Lady  de  la  Haye  never 
could  know,  quite,  what  made  her  love  so  deep  a  thing. 
This  beautiful  white-haired  woman  had  no  contrast  to  go  by. 
She  had  never  known  a  daily  round  of  makeshift,  one  in 
which  the  finer  feelings  of  existence  were  so  conspicuously 
absent. 

"  You  can't  even  dimly  realize  what  Roger  is  to  me,"  she 
cried  out. 

If  the  girl  expected  a  reply,  some  reminder  that  she  was 
not  the  only  woman  in  the  world  who  loved  a  man,  she  was 
mistaken. 

Roger's  mother  was  wholly  occupied  with  one  point.  She 
saw  that  the  decision  was  made,  and  she  did  not  propose  to 
comment  on  it. 

"  Littleport  will  be  here  in  five  minutes,"  she  said.  "  If 
you  want  to  write  to  Roger  by  this  post,  you  must  finish 
your  letter  before  Littleport  comes  in." 

"  But,"  cried  out  Naomi,  "  I  will  not  write." 

"  You  will  not  write,"  repeated  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

"  I  have  told  him  all  there  was  to  say." 

"  Then,"  asked  the  white-haired  woman,  "  what  do  you 
propose  to  do  ?  " 

Naomi  half  smiled.    She  looked  at  the  clock  again. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  213 

The  older  woman  followed  her  glance,  and  it  was  Roger's 
mother  who  always  remembered  that  the  face  of  the  man 
on  the  dial,  half-turned  over  to  denote  the  waning  of  the 
moon,  seemed  to  grin  at  her. 

"  When  I  leave  here  tomorrow,"  Naomi  went  on,  "  Roger 
will  come  back  to  you,  he  will  talk  to  you.  You  must  make 
him  see  that  the  greatest  wrong  of  all  would  be  to  deny  me 
the  place  that  his  love  and  mine  give  me." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  smiled  very  grimly.  They  were  fencing 
without  foils  now,  and,  after  all,  it  takes  another  woman  to 
be  really  cruel  to  a  woman. 

"  You  think  I  can  send  Roger  to  you,"  she  cried  out. 

"  I  know  you  can,"  Naomi  answered. 

She  walked  across  the  room  and  stood  up  by  the  window. 

"  Don't  you  see,"  she  answered  as  she  flung  around,  "  no 
one  else  can  do  it  but  you.  No  one  else  can  convince  him 
that  it  is  for  his  happiness — and  mine." 

Amabelle  de  la  Haye  let  her  knitting  slip  on  to  her  lap, 
and  as  she  sat  still,  it  traveled  over  her  silk  skirt  and  dropped 
on  to  the  floor.  She  used  quaint  old  tortoiseshell  pins  and 
they  struck  together  as  they  fell.  The  sharp  click  was  the 
only  noise  in  the  room  and  it  seemed  to  draw  itself  out  with 
a  disproportionate  echo. 

At  last  Roger's  mother  rose  slowly  to  her  feet. 

She  walked  to  the  writing-table.  She  took  up  the  photo- 
graph of  her  husband.  She  was  so  often  very  lonely,  but 
she  had  never  felt  the  need  for  support  as  she  did  at  this 
moment.  She  looked  across  to  the  tall  golden-haired  girl 
waiting  for  her  to  speak. 

"  I  know  your  standing  by  Roger  will  make  things  easier 
for  him  now,"  she  began,  "  but,  as  I  have  said  before,  there 
is  the  time  to  come.  If  you  are  reckoning  on  his  being 
cleared,  on  his  honor  being  vindicated — I  must  tell  you,  I 
am  not  sanguine.  My  boy  is  innocent,  but  who  copied  the 
memorandum?  I  ask  you,"  and  now  the  low  voice  rang  full 
with  passion — "  I  ask  you,  who  copied  the  memorandum  ? — 
That  is  what  you  will  have  to  help  to  find  out.  This  is  what 
Roger  will  never  rest  until  he  has  found  out." 


214  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Naomi  put  up  her  hand  as  if  to  ward  off  a  blow. 

"  Don't,"  she  faltered,  "  it— it— it  is  so  dreadful." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  came  a  step  nearer.  She  put  her  hand 
on  the  gray  sleeve, 

"  There,"  she  said  dully,  "  that  is  the  situation  you  will 
have  to  face." 

"  Never  mind,"  cried  back  Naomi,  "  what  I  have  to  face. 
Never  mind  what  I  have  to  endure,  what  I  suffer,  only  tell 
yourself  until  you  believe  it,  that  I  love  Roger.  Only 
realize  somehow,  that  if  cutting  me  into  mincemeat  would 
make  Roger  happy,  I'd  smile  while  the  knife  went  in,  as  long 
as  he  went  on  loving  me,  being  happy  with  me." 

The  girl's  voice  had  but  just  died  down  when  Littleport 
entered,  bringing  in  the  afternoon  post. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  took  the  bundle  of  letters  addressed  to 
her  and  laid  them  aside.  They  had  been  written  to  another 
Lady  de  la  Haye,  and  she  would  answer  them  presently  as 
those  left  behind  answer  letters  to  the  dead. 

Littleport  went  round  by  the  writing-table,  and,  as  he  was 
a  methodical  soul,  he  put  two  long-backed  walnut  chairs  in 
their  places  as  he  went. 

"  This  is  for  you.  Ma'am,"  he  said  to  Naomi. 

It  was  addressed  in  Mrs.  Melsham's  writing,  and  as  the 
girl  turned  it  over  she  saw  imprinted  across  the  flap  of  the 
envelope  the  name  of  a  hotel  in  Enghien. 

Naomi's  face  stiffened,  hardened.  Instantly  she  guessed 
that  something  had  happened.  Mrs.  Melsham  had  an- 
nounced her  intention  of  waiting  in  London  until  her  daugh- 
ter jointed  her,  but  Naomi  knew  that  no  maternal  con- 
sideration would  keep  her  mother  away  for  an  hour  from 
anything  that  seemed  to  promise  more  amusement.  What 
would  restrain  Mrs.  Melsham  was  the  money.  A  week  ago 
their  funds  had  been  at  the  lowest  ebb.  Naomi  wondered, 
and  yet  she  dared  not  ask  herself,  who  had  supplied  the 
necessary  cash. 

With  a  quick  word  to  ask  permission,  the  girl  broke  the 
flap.  She  glanced  down  the  scrawled  sheet.  She  looked 
at  Lady  de  la  Haye. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  215 

"  Mama  has  gone  away,"  she  gasped.  "  She  has  left  our 
hotel.     She  has  gone  to  Enghien." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  looked  up  slowly.  Nothing  about 
Naomi's  mother  had  pleased  her,  but  she  had  not  been  pre- 
pared for  this. 

"  What  does  she  propose  you  should  do  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Mama  seems  to  think  I  shall  stay  here  for  a  few  days 
longer." 

"  Why  should  she  do  that  ? "  asked  Roger's  mother. 
*'  Did  I  not  say  definitely  *  from  Friday  to  Wednesday  '  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  faltered  Naomi. 

She  picked  up  the  letter.  It  was  as  frank  as  Mrs. 
Melsham  could  be  when  she  saw  no  advantage  in  being 
circumspect.  She  said  in  exactly  so  many  words  that  she 
considered  her  daughter's  presence  undesirable  and  coun- 
seled her  to  get  herself  invited  to  stay  longer  at  Zouche. 

Naomi  had  been  served  in  the  same  way  before,  and, 
before,  she  had  met  the  situation  as  part  of  the  routine  of 
her  life.  Now,  she  could  not  intrigue  for  further  free  board 
and  lodging,  neither  could  she  just  disappear.  There  were 
places  where  she  could  hide,  and  lead  a  tea  and  sardine 
existence.  She  had  done  that  before,  but  at  this  instant 
she  must  be  somewhere  where  Roger  could  come  to  her. 
She  longed,  and  longed  passionately,  to  be  protected, 
chaperoned  as  other  girls  in  her  place  would  be. 

It  was  quite  a  little  time  while  the  two  women  remained 
silent.  At  length  Naomi  began  nervously  to  tear  her  letter 
into  strips.  She  was  as  homeless  as  a  street  arab,  and  when 
that  pressed  home  into  her  mind  her  strength  came  to  an 
end.  She  had  borne  up  under  hours  of  misery.  She  had 
showed  a  proud  front  to  the  most  penetrating  of  all  inquisi- 
tions, but  her  mother's  defection  broke  her  down. 

She  began  to  cry,  standing  up  there,  facing  Lady  de  la 
Haye.  Her  grief  was  not  noisy.  It  was  that  painful  emo- 
tion which  puckers  the  face,  which  wrings  the  lips  thin, 
which  forces  the  tears  out  of  the  eyes  that  they  dull  as  they 
leave  them. 
Roger's  mother  looked  up.    The  girl's  abandonment  de- 


2i6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

prived  her  of  all  power  of  movement.  She  looked  on. 
watching,  and  as  she  watched,  her  mind  formed  one  phrase, 
and  having  formed  it,  went  on  repeating  it. 

"  I  wish  she  would  sit  down  to  cry,"  Amabelle  de  la  Haye 
kept  on  repeating  to  herself.  "  It  is  not  the  way  to  cry 
standing — she  should  sit  down." 

At  length  Naomi  put  up  her  hands.  She  rubbed  the  backs 
of  them  across  her  eyes.  Her  handkerchief  was  tucked  into 
her  sleeve,  but  she  did  not  think  of  using  it.  She  put  up  her 
hands  and  she  brushed  the  tears  aside  with  them,  as  the 
most  primitive  among  her  sisters  might  have  done. 

"  Don't,"  murmured  Lady  de  la  Haye,  at  last. 

Naomi  caught  the  one  halting  word. 

She  walked  across.  She  let  her  arms  fall  on  either  side 
of  her, 

"  I  must  tell  you,"  she  began  brokenly,  "  there  has  never 
been  any  real  sympathy  between  mama  and  myself.  I 
always  knew  that  she  found  me  in  her  way  when  she 
wanted  to  enjoy  herself.  I  have  been  left  behind  often 
before.  I — I  never  minded  before,  but  today  it  hurt  so — 
because " 

She  broke  off.  She  had  excused  her  breakdown,  but 
Amabelle  felt  that  more  was  to  come. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  looked  up.  There  were  plenty  of  giddy 
mothers  who  found  grown-up  daughters  in  the  way.  She 
was  beginning  to  ask  herself  what  was  the  something  more 
at  the  bottom  of  the  girl's  distress.  But  at  that  very  moment 
a  tapping  came  at  the  French  window  leading  on  to  the 
terrace. 

Both  the  women  within  the  Queen  Anne  room  turned 
abruptly.  Outside,  was  a  woman's  figure,  and  the  hand  that 
had  tapped  a  moment  ago  was  fumbling  now  to  unlatch  the 
casement. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  glanced  at  Naomi.  Whoever  this  in- 
truder might  be,  she  must  not  see  Naomi  Melsham  with  the 
tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  The  same  thought  came  to 
the  girl  even  more  quickly.  The  white-haired  woman 
watched  the  struggle  for  self-possession,  and  she  saw  a 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  217 

success  so  rapid,  so  complete,  that  it  could  not  be  the  first 
time  that  Roger's  future  wife  had  drawn  a  convenient  mask 
over  her  face  at  short  notice.  The  very  success  of  the 
transformation  dismayed  Lady  de  la  Haye. 

The  next  moment  she  rose.  She  walked  to  the  window, 
while  the  figure  without,  finding  the  casement  latched  in- 
side, had  taken  to  tapping  again. 

"  Annie,"  exclaimed  Amabelle,  "  how  did  you  get  here?  " 

Mrs.  Tune,  Annie  Tune,  as  she  was  called  by  all  her 
acquaintances,  walked  into  the  room. 

She  was  a  tall  individual,  with  hair  of  that  uncertain 
shade  between  brown  and  gray,  and  a  face  where  no  feature 
matched  with  the  other.  Her  garments  hung  on  her  any- 
how, and  she  had  a  genius  for  wearing  the  wrong  things 
wrongly  colored. 

Further,  she  was  fairly  well-to-do,  and  had  a  passion  for 
other  people's  affairs.  She  met  with  more  than  her  share  of 
rebuffs,  but  she  never  saw  one  of  them,  so  possessed  was 
she  with  the  notion  that  she  was  essential  to  each  and  every 
event  passing  for  twenty  miles  around. 

She  entered  in  a  hurry  now,  and  tripped  over  the  carpet. 
She  laid  both  her  hands — they  were  in  odd  gloves  and 
neither  of  them  was  buttoned — on  Lady  de  la  Haye's  arm  to 
right  herself,  and,  as  she  clung  there,  she  began  to  expostu- 
late in  an  exasperatingly  breathless  voice. 

"  My  dear,"  she  gasped,  "  you  should  tell  Littleport  not 
to  be  so  stupid.  He  actually  assured  me  you  were  not  at 
home :  as  though  you  would  deny  yourself  to  me.  Luckily, 
I  had  an  inspiration.  I  remembered  the  way  round  by  the 
terrace,  so  I  stopped  the  motor  at  the  corner  and  got  out." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  murmured  a  reply,  and  when  Mrs.  Tune 
had  sufficiently  recovered  her  balance  to  stand  firmly  on  her 
own  feet,  she  looked  round  to  make  sure  who  was  the  second 
occupant  of  the  room. 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke.  Mrs.  Tune  smiled  as  if  she 
were  telling  herself  something  interesting,  and  then  she 
walked  on  a  pace.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  she  was  assuring 
herself  that  Amabelle  de  la  Haye,  for  all  her  worldly  experi- 


2i8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

ence,  was  wanting  in  savoir  vivre,  and  that  "  the  wife  of  a 
diplomat  ought  to  have  good  manners  at  least." 

She  determined  to  take  the  matter  into  her  own  hands, 
and  incidentally  to  hint  to  her  old  friend  where  she  was 
lacking. 

"  I  think  we  have  met  before,"  she  began,  as  she  walked 
up  to  Naomi. 

"  Miss  Melsham — Mrs.  Tune,"  Lady  de  la  Haye  was  com- 
pelled to  add. 

The  unbidden  visitor  stood  with  her  hand  half  extended. 

"  Melsham !  "  she  remarked,  "  I  seem  to  know  that  name." 

She  sat  down.  She  pushed  a  glove  on  to  her  lean  wrist 
and  half  peeled  it  off.  It  was  obvious  that  she  was  searching 
in  her  memory  as  one  searches  for  a  particular  snippet  in 
a  ragbag. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  interrupted  the  process. 

"  Did  you  want  to  see  me  about  something  important, 
Annie?  "  she  began. 

"  My  dear,"  Mrs.  Tune  exclaimed,  as  she  looked  up,  "  I 
read  the  news  in  the  paper  this  morning.  Directly  I  realized 
that  there  had  been  a  theft  in  your  house — such  an  odd  one, 
too — I  made  up  my  mind  to  come  over  and  hear  all  about  it. 
Everyone  will  want  to  know,  of  course,  and  they  are  sure 
to  come  to  me  since  I  am  so  reliable.  So  queer  of  you,  dear, 
I  must  say,  to  let  curious  people,  who  really  may  not  wash 
themselves  every  day,  come  and  pay  each  other  money  in 
your  house." 

The  two  women  heard  this  version  of  an  international 
agreement,  and  let  it  pass  without  comment. 

But  Mrs.  Tune  had  yet  more  to  say. 

"  I  think  it  is  a  pity  that  Roger  should  be  away  from 
Zouche  now,"  she  resumed. 

"How  did  you  know  that  he  was  not  here?"  gasped 
Amabelle. 

Annie  Tune  smiled  with  superiority.  Like  many  mediocre 
people,  nothing  gave  her  such  joy  as  to  believe  that  she  pos- 
sessed exclusive  information. 

"  I  have  the  knack  of  knowing  things,"  she  announced 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  219 

complacently,  and  then,  condescending  to  particulars,  she 
added,  "  I  was  in  the  village  when  a  big  yellow  car  raced 
past.  I  managed  to  see  that  Roger  was  in  it.  I  suppose 
that  was  a  friend  driving  him?  They  were  going  well 
over  twenty  miles  an  hour." 

She  looked  round  as  she  vindicated  the  speed  limit,  and 
included  Naomi  in  a  wide  tepid  smile. 

The  girl  moved  up  a  pace.  She  did  not  take  a  chair,  but 
she  surveyed  the  untidy  figure  attentively,  curiously  certain 
that  this  foolish  old  woman's  interruption  would  somehow 
influence  her  private  concerns. 

Mrs.  Tune  answered  the  look  with  a  sudden  cry  of 
triumph. 

"  There,"  she  ejaculated.  "  I  have  it  now.  There  was  a 
Mrs.  Melsham  that  year  I  went  to  Nice  after  the  mumps." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  answered  with  a  question.  We  do  some- 
times turn  aside  from  information.  One  wonders  why.  Is 
it  just  nerves — or  some  latent  sense  of  fair  play  to  the  being 
whose  private  concerns  are  about  to  be  discussed? 

"  Do  you  mean  to  go  abroad  this  year  ?  "  she  asked. 

Mrs.  Tune  shook  her  head. 

"  So  many  people  miss  me,"  she  affirmed. 

She  turned  back  to  Naomi. 

"  Of  course,"  she  persisted,  "  Melsham  is  not  a  common 
name,  but  the  Mrs.  Melsham  at  Nice — what  was  it  about 
her?  Was  it  she  was  so  good-looking?  She  was  that 
woman  who  used  to  gamble  at  the  Casino." 

Naomi  came  a  step  nearer.  She  clasped  her  hands  to- 
gether. She  waited  for  what  might  be  coming  next.  But 
the  particular  snippet  that  Mrs.  Tune  had  detached  from 
her  mental  rubbish  heap  led  her  no  farther. 

"  You  keep  your  room  very  hot,  Amabelle,"  she  began. 

She  put  up  her  hands  to  unfasten  the  straggling  feathers 
round  her  neck,  but  the  boa  entangled  itself  in  her  floating 
veil,  and  then  the  veil  hooked  on  to  the  fastening  of  her 
pince-nez.  Naomi  solicitously  offered  her  help,  and  as  she 
disentangled  the  muddle,  she  looked  across  at  Lady  de  la 
Haye. 


220  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Amabelle  understood.  Fate  was  driving  her  again,  had 
driven  her  indeed,  right  on  to  the  rocks. 

With  the  next  words,  Mrs.  Tune,  mumbhng  round  a 
bunch  of  feathers,  completed  the  shipwreck. 

"  I  thought  all  your  house  party  were  sure  to  have  left 
you,"  she  went  on.  "  I  made  sure  I  should  find  you  alone, 
and  that  it  would  be  a  relief  to  you  to  tell  me  all  about  it." 

A  curious  light  touched  Lady  de  la  Haye's  face.  She  rose 
slowly.  In  the  stressful  moments  of  life,  humanity  seems  to 
find  a  certain  consolation  in  the  knowledge  that  it  is  standing 
planted  on  its  own  two  feet. 

"  My  house  party  has  gone,"  she  said  slowly,  "  Naomi  is 
different." 

Mrs.  Tune  wagged  her  head  sideways  with  a  jerk. 

"  Eh,"  she  articulated,  ungracefully. 

Naomi  stepped  back.  She  left  the  veil  clinging  to  the 
hook,  and  Annie  Tune,  with  her  face  half  covered,  squinted 
round  a  roll  of  net. 

"  Eh  ?  "  she  repeated,  when  she  saw  that  Lady  de  la  Haye 
was  looking  very  straight  at  her. 

The  white-haired  woman  glanced  aside  now,  glanced  to 
where  Naomi  was  standing,  one  hand  resting  on  the  writing- 
table. 

"  You  know,  Annie,"  resumed  Amabelle,  "  that  there  has 
been  a  theft  from  this  house.  The  papers  told  you  so  much, 
but  they  did  not  tell  you  that  Roger  would  be  in  despair  but 
for  one  thing  ..." 

She  stopped.    Mrs.  Tune  looked  up  quickly. 

"  I  thought,"  she  muttered  tactfully,  "  that  Roger  would 
be  too  much  upset  to  think  of  anything  but  the  consequences 
of  what  he  had  done." 

For  a  moment  Lady  de  la  Haye's  composure  all  but  de- 
serted her.    The  next  instant  she  had  herself  in  hand. 

"  You  know  my  boy,  Annie,"  she  said  quietly,  "  therefore 
I  need  not  defend  him  to  you." 

"  He  hurt  me  very  much  dashing  past  and  not  even  lifting 
his  hat,"  the  dear  lady  interposed. 

The  white-haired  woman  smiled  grimly. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  221 

"  I  think,"  she  said,  "  that  perhaps  he  was  a  Httle  pre- 
occupied." 

Mrs.  Tune  said  "  Oh  "  to  that,  and  the  next  instant  sug- 
gested that  Roger  would  have  done  well  to  stop  and  tell 
her  all  about  it. 

"  You  will  be  the  first  to  hear  one  thing,  at  least,  Annie," 
went  on  Lady  de  la  Haye.     "  Naomi " 

Mrs.  Tune  looked  from  the  speaker  to  the  girl  by  the 
table.    She  scented  a  love  story, 

"  What  now  ?  "  she  asked  curtly.  Mrs.  Tune  among  other 
things  was  a  matchmaker,  and  she  always  was  affronted  if 
her  preserves  were  invaded. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  walked  across  the  room.  She  stood  up 
by  Naomi.    She  put  her  hand  on  the  girl's  arm. 

"  Naomi  is  going  to  stay  with  me,"  she  went  on,  "  for 
some  time.  In  fact,  I  think  Roger  will  persuade  her  to 
remain  at  Zouche  always." 

Mrs.  Tune  heard,  and  her  lower  jaw  dropped. 

"  Indeed,"  she  said,  and  she  gave  her  veil  a  final  wrench 
and  tore  a  hole  through  which  her  nose  poked. 

It  was  a  full  minute  before  she  recollected,  not  so  much 
what  custom  demanded  of  her,  but  what  was  advisable,  if 
she  were  to  maintain  a  footing,  the  footing  she  wished  to  be 
on  at  Zouche. 

"  How  nice  of  you  both  to  tell  me  first,"  she  began. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  looked  once  more  at  Naomi,  then  she 
went  to  the  writing-table.  She  found  a  telegraph  form  and 
took  up  her  pen.  Littleport,  followed  by  another  man- 
servant, brought  in  tea  and  she  asked  him  to  wait  a  moment. 

The  old  man  stood  back.  Mrs.  Tune's  attention  was 
momentarily  diverted  to  the  footman's  trousers.  She  was 
sure  they  were  getting  worn,  and  nothing,  she  was  telling 
herself,  showed  such  bad  taste  as  shabby  finery. 

Amabelle  rose.  She  crossed  to  Naomi.  She  laid  the  sheet 
before  her.    "  Will  that  do  ?  "  she  said. 

Naomi  looked  down. 

"  Return  immediately.  Naomi  remains  with  us.  We  both 
want  you.    Your  Mother  " — the  girl  read. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

In  the  big  battles  of  life,  there  are  some  victories  which 
seem  only  given  us  by  the  grimly  smiling  gods  in  order  to 
intensify  the  bitterness  of  our  subsequent  defeat.  Surely 
the  Fates  are  malicious — or  worse.  Such  are  the  conclu- 
sions common  to  weak  and  routed  spirits  when  the  ambi- 
tious edifice  they  have  built  on  foundations  of  self-deceit 
suddenly  tumbles  into  dust. 

It  was  such  thoughts  which  played  unintentionally — hope- 
lessly— through  the  mind  of  Naomi  de  la  Haye  as  she  stood 
at  the  window  of  the  hotel  in  Venice  on  an  afternoon  of  a 
late  September  day — some  months  after  the  affaire  of 
the  Chinese  memorandum  had  ceased  to  be  a  nine  days' 
wonder.  She  had  been  married  to  Roger  de  la  Haye  barely 
three  months,  and  already  the  iron  heel  of  reality  was 
trampling  down  the  illusion  under  which  she  had  married 
him.  "  Nothing  can  make  up  to  a  man  for  the  loss  of  his 
honor — that's  what  I  didn't  understand  " — the  phrase  spoken 
unconsciously  summed  up  the  whole  position,  and  beat  itself 
into  her  brain.  Her  lip  quivered  ever  so  slightly  but  not  in 
self-pity.  After  all — she  had  known  happiness — all-absorb- 
ing happiness — for  two  whole  months,  nine  weeks,  sixty 
irrevocable  days  and  nights.  Until  ten  days  ago  she  had 
even  been  flushed  with  victory, — "  Love  had  conquered. 
She  had  been  right,"  she  had  told  herself  triumphantly. 
She  was  Roger's  world,  her  love  a  nepenthe  so  deep  that 
the  whispering  of  the  outside  adverse  forces  could  never 
break  their  dream.  Well !  that  was  illusion.  It  had  gone 
like  the  others,  but  nothing  could  rob  her  of  the  memories 
of  those  days  of  perfect  joy — no  suffering  in  store  for  her 
could  mar  or  dim  them.  They  had  been  cloudless — almost, 
— they  had  been  a  time  of  real  companionship  of  heart,  of 
mind,  of  spirit. 

222 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  223 

Swiftly  she  went  back  over  that  golden  time — back  to  that 
June  day  at  Zouche,  when  at  the  very  moment  when  the 
crime  seemed  to  overwhelm  her — Amabelle  de  la  Haye  had 
put  out  a  saving  hand.  All  that  was  fine  and  strong  and 
true  in  Amabelle's  nature  had  been  drawn — almost  against 
prudence  and  judgment  and  suchlike  of  the  meaner  virtues 
— towards  this  mother-deserted  girl — and,  deep  calling  unto 
deep,  the  potential  strength  and  beauty  of  Naomi's  char- 
acter had  throbbed  responsive  to  it.  Between  the  older  and 
the  younger  woman  there  grew  up  a  silent  understanding — 
a  mute  confidence.  It  had  no  quality  of  deceit — there  were 
things  in  the  girl's  life  of  which  Naomi  could  not  speak — 
Amabelle  de  la  Haye  recognized  that, — and  she  had  no  wish 
that  they  should  be  paraded  for  her  inspection,  for  being 
herself  of  fine  sensitiveness,  she  realized  instinctively  that 
whatever  the  aspect  of  these  untold  experiences,  their  effect 
on  the  girl  had  been  ennobling,  not  besmirching,  and  she  had 
no  wish  that  they  should  be  dragged  from  proper  burial. 
Amabelle  was  still  to  know  many  qualms  for  her  son's 
happiness,  but,  despite  them  all,  she  never  doubted  the 
rightness  of  that  impulse  which  compelled  her  to  send  that 
telegram  to  Roger  and  so  sealed  finally  her  choice  of  Naomi 
as  her  daughter-in-law. 

After  his  mother's  message  Roger  had,  of  course,  no 
alternative  but  to  return  to  Zouche.  He  came,  if  not  exult- 
antly, at  least  gladly.  One  part  of  him  was  thankful  for 
the  decision  in  the  same  way  as  a  hungry  man  is  grateful 
for  bread,  and  the  other  part  of  him  still  asked  if  he  ought 
not  to  have  cleared  himself  first  and  married  afterwards. 
But  once  at  Zouche,  back  amid  the  soothing  influence  of  his 
mother's  tact  (and  Amabelle's  sympathetic  perceptions  never 
served  her  better  than  during  the  weeks  following)  and  the 
tender,  half-shy,  half-eager  way  in  which  Naomi  marked 
out  her  love  for  him,  Roger  could  but  drift  with  the  stream. 

It  seemed  expedient  from  every  point  of  view  that  the 
marriage  should  take  place  as  speedily  as  possible.  The 
ceremony  was  performed  in  a  quiet  little  church  in  London, 
with  only  Marketel  and  Victoria,  in  addition  to  Lady  de  la 


224  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Have,  to  look  on.  Even  Mrs.  Melsham  was  not  present. 
Up  to  twelve  hours  before  the  marriage  day  she  had  been 
expected,  then  a  telegram  was  received  from  her  saying  she 
had  sprained  her  ankle  and  was  unable  to  move,  but  by  the 
last  post  that  same  evening  Naomi  received  a  letter  from 
her  mother.  It  was  written  from  a  hotel  in  Aix.  It  was 
filled  with  good  wishes  and  the  expressions  correct  for  the 
occasion.  The  very  smugness  of  such  protestations  filled 
Naomi  with  repulsion.  She  knew  that  each  word  had  been 
written  with  the  possibility  in  view  that  it  might  be  read 
by  Lady  de  la  Haye  or  Roger. 

The  girl  rose  and  was  about  to  strike  a  match.  She 
would  not  tear  up  anything  so  artificial,  she  would  burn  it; 
and  then  she  saw  that  there  was  an  additional  slip  of  paper 
still  within  the  cover.  She  took  it  out.  "  Do  not  be  uneasy 
about  my  sprained  ankle,"  she  read,  "  it  will  prevent  my 
traveling,  but  it  does  not  interfere  with  my  bien-etre  here." 

As  she  read  the  strange  message,  as  she  guessed  all  it 
implied,  Naomi's  face  softened.  She  understood — her 
mother  was  staying  away  purposely — it  was  the  kindest 
thing  she  could  do,  and  the  girl  found  it  in  her  heart  to  be 
grateful  for  such  an  unusual  mark  of  consideration. 

After  they  were  married,  Roger  and  Naomi  left  for  Italy. 
The  suggestion  had  come  from  Amabelle,  and  Naomi  was 
only  too  glad  to  leave  England ; — away  from  the  sights,  the 
sounds,  the  atmosphere  which  perpetually  reminded  Roger 
of  his  trouble,  she  hoped  to  gain  such  an  ascendancy  over 
his  mind,  that  it  would  make  her  love  the  fence  between 
him  and  the  censorious  world  of  which  she  had  dreamed. 

At  first,  she  succeeded  even  beyond  her  hopes.  They  went 
to  a  little  place  high  up  in  the  mountains,  above  Lake  Garda, 
for  the  August  heat.  Roger  walked  with  her  there,  sketched 
with  her,  painted  her  portrait  against  this  background, 
against  that.  He  read  to  her — but  what  mattered  most  to 
her,  his  whole  face  lighted  up  when  she  returned  to  him 
after  even  a  brief  interval.  In  truth — Roger  was  happy. 
Love  had  thrust  aside  recollection.  He  did  not  refuse  to 
think,  but  the  hours  were  so  filled  by  this  beautiful  woman 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  225 

who  knew  how  to  provide  him  with  a  stimulus  for  each 
waking  moment,  that  his  days  had  no  time  for  retrospection, 
and  his  nights  were  dreamless. 

But  when  the  sunshine  went  off  the  lake,  when  the 
autumn  rains  came,  when  out  of  doors  it  was  dreary  and 
their  little  rooms  in  the  quaint  hotel  which  had  been  so 
picturesque  in  the  warmth,  began  to  feel  draughty  and  cold, 
Roger's  spirits  flagged.  One  afternoon  Naomi  came  on  him 
looking  disconsolately  out  of  the  window. 

"  I've  been  drifting,"  he  said  to  her,  "  it's  been  pleasant, 
but  one  can't  go  on  drifting  for  a  lifetime." 

Naomi  drew  back  for  a  moment  in  dismay.  All  these 
weeks  she  had  made  Roger  happy — she  had  been  stronger 
than  regret — stronger  even  than  his  recollection — she  could 
not  have  everything  spoiled  now.  She  rallied  herself  and 
smiled  back  at  him. 

"  Ah ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  you  call  it  drifting.  I  call  it 
living.  One  day  of  sunshine  is  worth  ten  years  of  gray 
skies.  Don't  let  our  summer  end  one  hour  before  it  needs. 
If  it's  growing  dismal  here,  why  should  we  not  try  some 
other  place?  " 

Roger  turned  quickly. 

"  I  think  you  are  right,"  he  said.  "  Where  shall  we  go? 
Venice — there  is  a  good  train  from  here,  we  might  be  off 
tomorrow  ?  " 

Naomi  opened  her  lips  to  assent.  She  had  never  been  to 
Venice.  The  color,  the  whole  individuality  of  the  Queen  of 
the  Adriatic  was  a  thing  she  had  always  longed  to  see,  but 
she  checked  herself.  Venice  was  cosmopolitan.  Venice  be- 
longed to  the  great  world.  She  purposed  that  Roger  should 
return  to  the  bustle  among  which  henceforth  he  must  live 
and  yet  in  which  he  must  not  participate,  one  step  at  a 
time,  not  with  a  sudden  plunge  from  solitude  into  the 
vortex. 

"  I  have  always  wanted  to  see  Venice,"  she  began. 

"  Well  then  ?  "  he  asked,  wondering  why  she  hesitated. 

"  But  couldn't  we  go  there  by  stages  ?  "  she  asked.  "  There 
are  all  these  old  towns,  Verona,  Bologna,  Padua — we  have 


226  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

read  so  much  about  them — couldn't  we  go  and  see  some  of 
them?" 

Roger  laughed — gay  again.  How  good  a  thing  was  his 
married  life.  Each  day  he  discovered  new  channels  of  sym- 
pathy, new  communities  of  taste.  How  wonderful  that  he 
and  Naomi  should  ever  have  found  each  other.  What  if 
he  had  not  gone  to  the  Tippley-Smiths'  dance?  What  if 
twenty  small  details  had  been  other  than  they  were  ? 

"  Isn't  it  lucky,"  he  said  aloud,  taking  her  arm,  "  that  you 
and  I  have  so  many  likings  in  common?  Now,  since  you 
won't  have  Venice,  where  will  you  go  ?  " 

"  Anywhere,"  she  replied  promptly.    "  I  don't  mind  where 
we  begin,  each  place  is  so  interesting.     Fancy,  every  town 
with  a  story  of  its  own.    All  Italy  is  full  of  life." 
^    "  Of  emotion  you  mean,"  he  said  to  tease  her. 

"  What  if  I  do,"  she  retorted.  "  Isn't  emotion  the  main- 
stay of  life?" 

"  I  rather  thought  action  was,"  he  answered  banteringly. 

"  That's  a  parochial  idea,"  she  went  on  out  of  her  new- 
found wisdom.  "  Action  is  a  diminishing  power,  emotion  is 
an  increasing  one." 

He  laughed  again  and  let  the  argument  go,  but  she  had 
chased  away  his  moodiness.  Till  now,  she  had  always  been 
able  to  do  this,  and  it  sometimes  surprised  her  to  find  what 
leaps  her  own  mind,  urged  by  her  love,  could  take.  Not 
that  her  ideas  were  profound  or  her  premises  by  any  means 
correct.  But,  she  had  ideas  and  could  offer  them  for  his 
consideration.  He  might  agree ;  he  might  contradict.  That 
was  a  point  of  small  importance,  what  counted  was  that  her 
mind  could  act  on  his  mind  and  that  out  of  the  contrast 
came  sympathy  and  interest,  an  increasing  nearness,  a  blend- 
ing of  their  dual  individualities  into  one  well-balanced  whole. 
But  a  little  more — but  so  little  more — she  told  herself,  and 
Roger  would  be  so  entirely  hers  that  she  must  succeed  in 
keeping  him  happy  always. 

Roger  found  that  their  best  way  was  to  go  to  Verona. 
It  was  a  junction  and  a  good  train  stopped  there,  so  to 
Verona  they  went  the  following  afternoon.     They  arrived 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  227 

as  the  night  was  falling,  and  Naomi  saw  the  amphitheater, 
with  the  moon  in  the  sky,  with  the  cypress  trees,  each  clad 
in  its  own  shadow,  ringed  about  it. 

She  turned  to  Roger  after  the  first  look.  Their  eyes  met. 
He  bent  and  kissed,  not  her  face  but  her  hand.  She  under- 
stood. She  was  the  perfect  woman  to  him,  and  before  her 
rose  the  thing  she  had  almost  succeeded  in  putting  behind 
her — the  sinister  memory  of  how  she  came  to  be  by  his 
side  at  all. 

"  Are  you  tired  ?  "  Roger  asked,  seeing  that  her  face  was 
suddenly  overcast. 

"  I  think,"  she  answered,  "  I  am  overcome." 

He  nodded  contentedly.  It  was  pleasant  to  him  to  feel 
that  his  wife  was  thus  moved  by  beauty  not  made  by  human 
hands.  "  Thank  goodness,"  he  murmured  inwardly,  "  that 
her  enjoyment  isn't  bounded  by  dress  and  dancing." 

He  let  her  remain  silent  a  little  longer.  Naomi  could  not 
look  at  him,  for  she  felt  what  was  passing  in  his  mind.  She 
had  quieted  him  with  a  lie.  This  evening  that  fact  hurt 
her.  A  month  ago  she  would  have  accepted  the  solace  and 
ignored  the  means.  So  even  her  best  endeavor  was  to  be 
her  scourge. 

"  I'm  growing  away  from  the  things  I  used  to  accept  and 
find  good  enough,"  she  told  herself.  "  Roger  is  teaching  me, 
his  standard  is  so  much  higher  than  mine." 

"  Let  us  go  back,"  she  said  suddenly,  and  Roger,  after 
one  more  lingering  look,  took  her  to  the  hotel,  and  seeing  she 
still  looked  tired,  read  to  her  until  he  himself  grew  ab- 
sorbed in  the  volume  of  Bourget's  "  Sensations  d'ltalie." 

The  next  morning  the  sun  was  out,  and  the  market  in 
the  Piazza  d'Erbi  was  in  full  swing.  Naomi  stood  looking 
at  the  animated  groups  of  peasant  women,  each  eager  to  sell 
her  own  particular  basket  of  vegetables. 

"  You  ought  to  make  a  sketch  of  this,"  she  began  to 
Roger,  and  then  she  saw  him  glance  eagerly  along  the  square 
of  rugged  pavement. 

"Look,"  he  said,  "I  believe  that's  Helmside."  He 
pointed  to  a  man,  an  Englishman,  who  was  coming  towards 


228  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

them.  "  I  was  in  Vienna  with  him,"  Roger  went  on.  The 
man  (he  was  evidently  some  ten  years  older  than  Roger) 
was  almost  up  to  them.  Roger's  glance  compelled  his 
glance.  Naomi  saw  his  face  break  into  a  look  of  recog- 
nition. A  few  steps  more  and  he  and  Roger  must  meet. 
Then  the  Englishman  looked  carefully  into  the  square,  he 
made  a  step  aside  and  disappeared  through  the  door  of  the 
Signiory. 

Roger  clutched  at  Naomi's  arm. 

"  Did  you  see  that?  "  he  muttered.  "  He  didn't  want  to 
meet  me.    He  deliberately  avoided  me." 

Naomi  shivered  as  if  the  cold  wind  from  the  snow-topped 
mountains  had  caught  her.  It  would  be  futile  to  attempt  a 
denial.     She  slid  her  fingers  into  his. 

"  We  have  each  other,"  she  said. 

"  Good  God,"  he  murmured,  "  and  this  is  the  life  I  have 
dragged  you  into." 

This  time  she  answered  with  spirit. 

"  You  dragged  me  into  nothing,"  she  declared.  "  What  I 
did,  I  did  of  my  own  free  will,  I  was  proud  to  do  it — it 
was  my  right." 

Her  vehemence  made  Roger  drop  the  subject,  but  the  joy 
had  gone  out  of  Verona  for  him.  Once  he  murmured  some- 
thing about  wondering  if  Helmside  had  put  up  at  the  same 
hotel  as  themselves. 

"Does  it  matter  if  he  has?"  Naomi  asked,  striving  to 
speak  lightly.  "  I  think  we  have  about  exhausted 
Verona." 

"  Why,  last  night  you  saidjyou  could  stay  here  for  weeks," 
he  answered. 

She  kept  her  face  from  him.  He  must  not  see  that  she 
was  afraid,  he  must  not  read  on  it  that  she  felt  trapped. 

"  Last  night,"  she  said,  "  the  moonlight  tended  to  enthusi- 
asm, the  daylight  has  brought  wisdom.  The  amphitheater 
was  so  exquisite ;  let  us  keep  our  one  perfect  impression  and 
not  run  any  risk  by  staying  to  visit  it  again." 

Roger  made  no  further  demur.  He  did  not  believe  in 
Naomi's  explanation,  he  realized  suddenly  that  she  was  play- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  229 

ing  a  part — she  was  making  it  easy  for  him  to  avoid  Helm- 
side.  He  was  grateful,  and  he  went  to  the  station  willingly, 
but  in  the  train  he  asked  himself,  could  he  always  run  away, 
dragging  his  wife  along  behind  him — must  not  the  time 
come  when  he  must  face  old  acquaintances  in  society? 

The  question  stayed  in  his  mind.  Naomi  knew  there  was 
something  worrying  him  all  the  week  they  spent  in  Bologna. 
She  felt  her  husband  was  slipping  from  her,  that  all  her 
efforts  to  make  herself  necessary  to  him  were  vain. 

The  proposal  to  spend  a  day  in  Ferrara  came  from  Roger. 
Naomi  and  he  had  been  reading  the  story  of  those  two 
wonderful  Este  women  and  she  looked  forward  to  interest- 
ing Roger  in  the  Castello.  But  the  evidence  of  the  pomp 
and  splendor  of  those  old  rulers  left  him  cold.  He  walked 
through  the  rooms,  where  so  strangely  little  is  left  to  tell 
of  the  dominant  personalities  who  made  them,  with  almost 
as  bored  an  air  as  the  average  tourist,  he  even  asked,  when 
Naomi  was  preparing  to  go  down  to  see  the  dungeons,  if 
she  were  not  tired  now,  and  whether  they  had  better  not 
return  another  day. 

She  shook  her  head.  Physical  fatigue  was  better  than 
long  hours  spent  watching  Roger  looking  moodily  before 
him  as  he  had  done  the  previous  night. 

She  looked  into  the  gray  vaulted  mouth  of  the  opening, 
she  saw  the  worn  steps  of  the  steep  stone  staircase,  she 
even  marked  the  little  tufts  of  moss  on  them,  the  trickle  of 
damp.  It  was  desolate — but  absorbing.  Roger  must  come 
with  her,  Roger  must  see  the  situations  in  which  other  people 
had  suffered — the  pang  of  sympathy  shared  together,  would 
be  another  chord  to  throb  in  unison,  another  appeal  to  that 
communion  she  was  for  ever  trying  to  establish. 

"  Come  with  me,"  she  said,  "  I  don't  want  to  go  alone." 

An  old  woman,  bent,  toothless,  with  wisps  of  gray  hair 
streaming  about  her  wrinkled  cheeks,  was  waiting  with  a 
lantern,  and  she  saw  the  gesture  which  accompanied  Naomi's 
words. 

"  The  Signora  need  not  be  afraid,"  she  said  to  Roger.  "  I 
will  take  care  of  her." 


230  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"It  is  not  that,  Mother,"  he  answered,  for  he  was  a  fine 
ItaHan  scholar,  "  it  is  that  two  are  better  than  one." 

"  Aye,"  acquiesced  the  disheveled  old  creature,  "  and  so 
the  aged  find  out  when  they  are  left  alone." 

She  led  the  way  down  into  the  horrible  holes  into  which 
human  beings  were  cast  to  gasp  out  their  days  of  misery. 
She  looked  from  the  fine  man  to  the  lovely  woman  as  she 
recounted  the  stories  incident  to  each  dungeon.  It  was 
evident  that  she  felt  a  certain  friendliness  to  her  listeners 
just  because  they  were  good  to  look  upon,  just  because  the 
feast  of  life  appeared  to  be  spread  before  them.'  There 
was  nothing  of  the  perfunctory  manner  of  the  ordinary 
guide  about  her.  The  legends  she  spoke  of  were  magnifi- 
cent,* outstanding,  to  her,  and  she  expected  her  listeners  to 
be  thrilled  for  precisely  the  same  reason  as  she  was. 

At  length  they  came  to  an  oubliette,  the  deepest,  the  most 
unwholesome  of  all. 

"  The  prison  of  Parisiana,"  she  said. 

Roger  knew  the  story.  Byron  has  made  it  into  a  poem. 
It  was  a  typical  story  of  those  full-blooded  days — the  oft- 
told  theme  of  a  woman  who  loved,  who  defied  fate,  who  was 
pulled  up,  cut  short.  But  when  he  finished  describing  how, 
when  Parisiana  was  led  out  to  be  beheaded  by  the  orders 
of  her  outraged  husband,  even  the  guards  drew  back  in 
dismay — she  was  so  young,  so  lovely,  so  brave — the  old 
woman  set  down  her  lantern  with  its  wedge  of  guttering 
candle,  she  drew  up  her  crooked  body,  threw  back  her  head, 
while  into  her  old  eyes  there  came  a  light  which  betrayed 
how  she  had  looked  when  she  was  young. 

"  The  Signor  forgets  what  the  Lady  Parisiana  said,"  she 
protested. 

"  What  did  she  say  ?  "  Roger  asked. 

"  She  told  the  guards  not  to  pity  her,"  the  old  woman 
answered,  "  she  said  the  present  mattered  nothing,  not  even 
that  she  was  to  die  in  an  hour,  because  she  had  known 
transcendent  love — the  flowering  time  of  the  heart — nothing 
could  take  from  her  the  happiness  that  she  had  enjoyed." 

Involuntarily  Roger  looked  at  Naomi.     His  glance  met 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  231 

hers.  Silently  they  walked  up  the  narrow  steps,  still  speech- 
less they  stood  without  in  the  old  courtyard.  Roger  thrust 
a  coin  into  the  old  woman's  hand,  and  when  she  went  off, 
invoking  the  miscellaneous  collection  of  saints  to  see  to  it 
that  those  who  knew  how  to  be  generous  to  the  poor  were 
suitably  rewarded,  and  Roger  was  sure  that  he  and  Naomi 
were  alone,  he  pulled  her  close  to  him. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  the  old  woman  said  ?  "  he  asked 
huskily. 

Naomi  clung  to  him  and  nodded  silently. 

"  She  has  got  hold  of  the  right  end  of  life,"  he  went  on, 
"  there  is  nothing  which  really  counts  as  love  does.  It's 
strange,"  he  mused,  "  that  a  poor  old  creature  such  as  she 
should  perceive  the  essential,  and  so  many  others,  with  far 
more  opportunities,  miss  it." 

"  But,"  breathed  Naomi,  "  we  have  not  missed  it." 

"  No,"  said  Roger,  "  what  was  it  Parisiana  called  it?" 

"  The  flowering  time  of  the  heart,"  Naomi  told  him. 

"  We  have  had  our  flowering  time,"  Roger  went  on.  "  It's 
been  a  veritable  garden  of  blossoms.  We  must  always 
remember  that — whatever  may  come — like  Parisiana,  we 
have  had  our  day,  and  nothing  can  take  the  memory  of 
that  from  us." 

"  But,"  she  protested,  "  our  happiness  is  not  over. 
Surely,"  she  went  on,  "  if  these  weeks  have  meant  anything, 
they  have  taught  us  that  we  are  enough  for  each  other.  Let 
us  always  cling  to  that — just  you  and  I  together — a  charmed 
circle  within,  and  the  world  without,  nothing." 

"Will  that  content  you?"  he  asked. 

"  Will  that  content  you  ?  "  she  cried  back. 

"  Yes,"  he  answered  tenderly,  almost  reverently,  and  if 
she  fancied  there  was  a  shade  of  reservation  in  his  tone,  yet 
the  assurance  meant  so  much  to  her  that  she  would  not  hear 
it.    "  He  is  happy,"  she  told  herself,  "  he  is  perfectly  happy." 

The  rapt  look  remained  in  her  eyes  as  they  went  through 
the  gate  which  led  out  of  the  town,  as  they  went  down 
the  strip  of  dusty  road  to  the  station.  They  were  going  on 
to  Padua  that  evening.    The  few  days  spent  in  Padua  were 


232  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

not  quite  a  success.  Roger  was  still  interested,  still  acqui- 
escent, but  certain  signs  of  restlessness  manifested  them- 
selves. 

One  evening  he  told  Naomi  that  he  had  given  orders  that 
his  letters  from  England  were  to  be  sent  to  Venice.  The 
next  day  he  referred  to  these  letters  again.  The  next 
evening  when  the  landscape  out  of  their  window  was  neu- 
tral-tinted, and  the  country  as  they  could  see  it,  brown,  he 
turned  to  her  with  a  suppressed  longing. 

"  The  partridges  will  want  shooting  at  Zouche,"  he  said. 

Then  she  knew  that  they  must  go  on  at  once.  Venice 
was  larger,  more  in  the  movement  of  the  world.  She  hoped 
that  there,  with  more  comfortable  quarters,  with  so  much 
to  see,  she  could  capture  Roger's  spirit  again. 

"  You  must  show  me  the  real  Venice,"  she  said,  as  they 
came  out  of  the  ugly  modern  station  and  stepped  into  a 
gondola.  She  hoped  he  would  order  the  boatman  to  take 
them  up  the  Grand  Canal,  but  instead  he  said,  "  Hotel  de 
rUnivers,"  and  turning  back  to  his  wife  he  added,  "  Letters 
may  be  waiting  for  us  there  .  .   .  perhaps  some  news  ..." 

The  sentence  trailed  away  unfinished.  There  was  no  need 
for  words,  Naomi  knew  of  what  he  was  thinking. 

Once  at  the  hotel,  Roger's  first  demand  again  was  for 
letters. 

"  I  didn't  know  you  were  so  eager  for  them,"  Naomi 
ventured. 

"  I  don't  think  I  was  while  we  were  in  outlandish  places," 
he  answered,  "  it's  different  now." 

He  went  directly  to  the  bureau  and  gave  his  name  sharply. 
"  Sir  Roger  de  la  Haye,"  he  said,  and  the  concierge  assured 
him,  with  his  most  obsequious  bow,  that  the  letters  ft)r  "  Sir 
Haye  and  Milady  were  upstairs  in  the  salon  especially 
reserved  for  them  on  the  first  floor." 

"  Let  us  go  up  and  see  what  there  is  at  once,"  he  said. 

Nothing  in  an  Italian  hotel  gets  itself  accomplished  quite 
as  quickly  as  that.  It  was  necessary  to  ring  for  the  floor 
waiter,  and  the  floor  waiter,  when  he  did  appear  in  the  hall, 
had  to  ring  for  the  lift,  but  at  length,  Naomi  and  Roger 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  233 

found  themselves  in  that  long  apartment — "  The  Noble 
Room,"  as  it  is  known — facing  the  canal,  which  is  a  feature 
of  every  old  palace  in  Venice. 

It  was  still  early.  The  gray  mist  flushed  with  lemon,  still 
lingered  on  the  water,  on  the  great  church  across  the  canal. 
Naomi's  first  impulse  was  to  go  to  the  windows,  to  open 
them,  to  step  out  on  to  the  balcony,  to  draw  Roger  after 
her,  but  an  exclamation  from  her  husband  stopped  her. 
"  Here  are  my  letters — and  yours,"  he  said. 

He  sank  on  to  the  nearest  chair.  The  written  word  was 
the  paramount  thing  to  him ;  the  mere  chance  of  a  hint  from 
home  was  his  first  concern. 

Naomi  muttered  something  about  being  hot  and  dusty  and 
the  allurement  of  a  bath,  and  slipped  through  the  double 
doors  to  her  own  room.  She  threw  off  her  hat  and  let  down 
her  hair  before  she  glanced  at  the  envelopes  addressed  to 
her.  She  told  herself  that  she  had  no  heart  for  them,  and 
then  she  saw  that  the  topmost  one  had  been  directed  by  Vic- 
toria Cresswell.  The  two  girls  had  drawn  very  close  to- 
gether notwithstanding  their  brief  acquaintance.  Victoria 
had  been  at  Naomi's  wedding.  She  had  shown  a  deep 
understanding  of  Naomi's  great  love.  Now,  Naomi  found, 
Victoria  was  writing  to  announce  her  own  marriage  to  Paul 
Marketel.  Naomi  looked  at  the  date.  The  letter  was  nearly 
a  month  old.  Victoria  was  Paul's  wife  by  now.  Naomi  was 
just  going  to  call  to  Roger  to  come  and  hear  the  good  news, 
when  she  heard  him  calling  her. 

"  Come  at  once,"  she  heard  him  say.  "  Be  quick !  Do 
please  come  quickly!  .  .  .  Paul  has  written  to  me  to  tell 
me    ..." 

"  I  know,"  answered  Naomi,  breaking  in  on  Roger's 
eagerness  with  a  laugh.  "  You  didn't  expect  me  to  be 
surprised,  did  you?  " 

"  Not  surprised,"  repeated  Roger  as  he  pushed  open  one 
of  the  communicating  doors  and  stood  within  it.  "  Not 
surprised." 

She  saw  at  once  that  they  were  at  cross  purposes. 

"  I'm  alluding  to  Paul's  marriage,"  she  said. 


234  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Oh,  that !  "  answered  Roger,  brushing  aside  the  matri- 
monial aspect  as  if  of  negligible  importance.  "  I 
mean  ..." 

"  What  ?  "  questioned  Naomi  apprehensively,  for  as  she 
advanced  into  the  salon  she  saw,  in  the  bright  light  after 
the  semi-darkness  of  her  bedroom,  where,  Italian  fashion, 
the  green  shutters  were  fastened  before  the  window,  that 
Roger's  face  was  drawn  with  agitation.  "  What  is  it  ?  "  she 
asked  again  breathlessly. 

Roger  pushed  Marketel's  letter  into  her  hand. 

"  Carson  has  found  out,"  she  read,  "  that  the  man  who 
sold  the  Chinese  memorandum  to  the  Olympic  Press  was  a 
scoundrel  called  Hermann  Strum.  Where  this  man  is  now, 
or  how  he  obtained  his  information,  we  haven't  yet  dis- 
covered, but  Carson  is  pursuing  his  investigations  with 
every  confidence." 

Paul  went  on  to  give  the  details  of  the  extraordinary  and 
mysterious  way  in  which  he  came  by  the  discovery.  "  It 
was,"  he  wrote,  "  just  as  though  I  was  intended  to  hear 
precisely  so  much  and  no  more — for  this  channel  of  infor- 
mation appears  to  have  dried  up  completely." 

But,  for  the  moment,  neither  Roger  nor  Naomi  had  time 
for  the  latest  aspect  of  entanglement,  they  both  fastened  on 
the  cardinal  fact  of  a  discovery.  Each  of  them  viewed  it 
from  a  personal  point  of  view. 

"  You  see,"  exclaimed  Roger  excitedly,  "  that  is  the  first 
ray  of  sunlight." 

"  But,"  murmured  Naomi  with  a  gasp,  "  he  says  he  can 
hear  no  more." 

"  That  must  be  only  a  temporary  check,"  pursued  Roger 
excitedly.  "  Give  Carson  but  the  merest  lead,  and  I  know 
he'll  end  in  success.  You  can  see," — tapping  the  letter — ■ 
"  from  what  Paul  says,  Carson  is  confident  now." 

He  threw  up  his  arms,  and  stretched  out  his  frame  as  if 
it  must  suddenly  expand  in  every  muscle  under  this  good 
news.  "  I  feel  that  we  are  at  the  beginning  of  the  end,"  he 
went  on.  "  Think !  in  a  month,  perhaps,  we  shall  have 
found  out  everything !    Everything !  "  he  repeated,  mouthing 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  235 

the  word,  as  if  the  mere  sound  of  it  revived  him,  animated 
him.  He  turned  back  to  the  writing-table,  and  seated  him- 
self. It  was  evident  that  he  would  not  lose  a  moment  in 
writing  back  to  Paul,  and  then,  pen  in  hand,  he  stopped,  lost 
in  conjecture.  "  Strum,"  he  muttered.  "  Hermann  Strum! 
Where  have  I  heard  that  name  before?  " 

That  was  the  very  question  Naomi  had  been  expecting, 
that  she  had  been  dreading  to  hear  her  husband  ask ;  and 
therefore,  with  the  crude  idea  of  removing  herself  from  his 
proximity,  she  hastened  through  the  window  into  the  loggia. 

Venice  lay  spread  before  her,  and  she  had  never  seen 
Venice  before,  but  her  eyes  took  in  none  of  the  details, 
neither  the  sweep  of  the  most  wonderful  waterway  in  all 
the  world,  nor  the  riot  of  color  where  the  sea  reflected  the 
sky  and  the  atmosphere  clothed  all  that  was  merely  built 
with  man's  hands,  with  a  thousand  lights  and  shades. 

She  only  saw  Strum's  face,  she  only  saw  those  leering 
wolflike  eyes,  she  only  saw  again  this  horrible  man  and  the 
snarl  with  which  he  had  brought  home  to  her  what  being 
in  the  power  of  an  unscrupulous  man  might  mean. 

The  last  thing  she  had  dreamed  of  had  come  to  pass. 
She  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  Strum  was  too  expert  a 
thief  not  to  effectively  cover  up  his  tracks,  and  here  was 
his  participation  set  down  in  black  and  white. 

From  that  hour,  Venice,  as  Naomi  viewed  Venice,  was  a 
failure.  Roger  was  restless,  excited.  He  sent  long  cable- 
grams to  Paul  and  Carson,  and  was  proportionately  dejected 
at  their  disappointing  replies.  Nothing  fresh  had  transpired 
— but  they  were  still  working.  Roger  grew  moody — either 
he  speculated  on  the  unknown  personality  of  Strum,  whose 
name,  every  time  it  was  mentioned,  seemed  to  stab  Naomi's 
brain — or  else  he  would  try  to  envisage  his  own  life  as  it 
must  be  when  he  got  home.  "  Look,"  he  said,  going  back 
to  the  incident  for  the  twentieth  time,  "  you  saw  Helmside 
for  yourself.  Wherever  I  go,  it  will  be  the  same.  I  shall 
be  avoided,  shunned — treated  as  he  treated  me,  vmless  I 
am  cleared — until  I  can  clear  myself." 

For  two,  three,  four  days,  Naomi  tried  to  replace  these 


236  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

impressions  with  the  scenes  about  them.  She  hurried 
breathlessly  from  St,  Mark's  to  the  Doges'  Palace,  down 
the  Canal  past  the  Rialto,  from  this  church  to  that,  and 
then,  when  the  more  obvious  sight-seeing  was  done  super- 
ficially, with  scrambling  haste,  she  suggested  a  boat 
over  to  Chiogga.  Then  she  wanted  to  see  a  glass  manu- 
factory, not  one  of  the  huge  cosmopolitan  establishments 
laid  out  to  entrap  foreigners,  but  one  of  the  little  hand 
furnaces  which  have  existed  since  the  Middle  Ages,  on 
the  scattered  little  isles  past  St.  Mariette.  But  it  was  all 
to  no  purpose.  Roger's  spirit  eluded  her.  The  time  had 
come  when  no  sweetness  would  soothe  his  irritability.  Tire- 
less, he  rang  the  changes  on  his  ostracism,  on  Paul's 
discovery. 

At  last  in  very  desperation,  Naomi  asked,  "  Would  you 
like  to  go  home  ?  " 

He  turned  on  her  eagerly — but  stopped  as  he  saw  no 
answering  enthusiasm  in  her  eyes. 

"  Our  plans — we  were  to  winter  in  Italy,"  he  evaded,  but 
Naomi  had  seen  his  face.  With  an  effort,  she  forced  her- 
self to  laugh.  "Are  not  plans  made  to  be  broken?"  she 
returned,  striving  to  speak  lightly. 

For  a  moment  or  two  Roger  was  all  animation.  Home ! 
Home!  That  was  what  he  wanted.  He  would  see  Carson 
in  London,  Paul  too.  .  .  .  He  would  be  on  the  spot,  in 
the  midst  of  things.  He  could  hear  what  was  passing  as 
soon  as  Carson  knew  it  himself.  If  anything  new  did  tran- 
spire, his  knowledge  of  it  would  not  depend  on  a  three  days' 
post.  They  could  be  back  by  the  first  of  October,  if  Naomi 
was  willing  to  start  as  soon  as  they  could  get  sleeping  berths. 

Bravely  she  responded  to  his  suggestion — hiding  her  mis- 
givings— burying  her  fears  under  a  gaiety  half -hysterical. 
"  The  first  of  October,"  she  repeated,  "  the  first  of  October," 
and  then,  just  to  keep  him  away  once  more — from  the 
detective  whom  she  dreaded  the  most  of  all,  she  threw  out 
the  reminder  that  they  would  arrive  in  England  just  in 
time  for  the  pheasant  shooting. 

The  mention  of  shooting  fired  Roger.     To  walk  again 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  237 

over  the  plow,  to  stumble  through  the  turnips,  to  feel  the 
slap  of  the  wind  after  many  autumns  in  the  East,  to  hear 
the  rousing  cry  of  "  mark  over,"  to  wait  for  the  whirring 
of  twenty  pairs  of  wings  scudding  over  his  head.  All  the 
sportsman  that  made  up  so  large  a  part  of  one  aspect  of  his 
character  awoke  in  Roger,  but  as  suddenly  the  excitement 
died  down.    The  memory  of  Helmside  recurred  again. 

"Who'll  want  to  shoot  with  me?"  he  muttered. 

"  Everyone  you  ask,  of  course,"  Naomi  protested. 

Roger  shook  his  head.    "  Not  they,"  he  muttered. 

"  Of  course  they  will,"  she  persisted,  "  you'll  see.  Try. 
Write  the  invitations  now  and  the  answers  will  be  waiting 
when  we  get  back  to  Zouche.  When  all  these  old  friends 
of  yours  are  delighted  to  welcome  you  back,  then  that  will 
convince  you  that  no  one  really  believes  you  had  a  hand  in 
— in — the  disappearance  of  the  memorandum." 

She  spoke  vehemently.  She  could  always  so  completely 
identify  herself  with  the  moment,  that  what  she  said  rela- 
tive to  it  rang  absolutely  true. 

It  was  not  until  Roger  was  at  the  writing-table,  not  until 
he  was  telling  her  about  old  friends  who  had  not  missed 
the  opening  pheasant  drive  for  years,  that  she  realized  what 
she  had  done.  It  was  she  who  was  plunging  him  in  among 
former  associations,  among  old  recollections. 

She  all  but  cried  out  to  him  to  desist,  to  come  away  some- 
where else,  anywhere :  but  she  knew  that  no  wandering 
would  help  now.  The  permanency  of  her  power  over  Roger 
was  at  stake,  that  permanency  was  to  be  put  to  the  test. 

"  In  a  week,"  she  told  herself  anxiously,  "  I  shall  know 
how  much  I  really  am  to  him." 

"  Surely,"  she  told  herself,  "  love  is  enough — his  for  me 
— mine  for  him.    Has  he  not  told  me  so?  " 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

Roger  had  counted  on  leaving  Venice  within  forty-eight 
hours  after  his  sudden  decision  to  go  home,  but,  when  he 
went  to  secure  sleeping  berths,  he  heard  that  as  it  was  the 
time  when  all  the  rich  Germans,  who  seemed  to  appropriate 
Italy  as  a  holiday  ground,  just  as  they  exploited  her  com- 
mercially, were  hurrying  back  to  the  Fatherland,  he  must 
await  his  turn,  so  that  it  was  not  until  nearly  a  week  later 
that  he  and  Naomi  found  themselves  at  Basle. 

The  delay  had  so  fretted  Roger  that  they  had  hurried 
along  by  the  St.  Gothard  route,  though  Naomi  had  mur- 
mured something  about  a  wish  to  stop  at  Lausanne  that 
she  might  visit  again  the  little  town  where  so  much  of  her 
childhood  had  been  spent.  Roger  was  under  the  impression 
that  this  was  why  she  suggested  the  Swiss  route  in  prefer- 
ence to  the  Mont  Cenis,  but  though  he  apologized  for  de- 
priving her  of  the  little  pleasure,  he  kept  on. 

In  reality,  quite  another  idea  was  at  the  back  of  Naomi's 
mind.  If  they  journeyed  through  France,  they  must  pass 
Aix,  and  she  did  not  want  to  stop  there.  She  had  no  wish 
to  see  her  mother  herself,  still  less  did  she  wish  Roger 
to  see  his  mother-in-law  amid  the  particular  set  which  Mrs. 
Melsham  would  be  sure  to  cultivate,  or  at  the  Casino,  where 
the  hazards  of  gambling  always  brought  out  her  worst 
traits. 

But  at  Basle  they  found  a  letter  from  Aimee  to  Roger. 
She  and  her  aunt  had  been  wandering  in  their  turn.  They 
had  been  passing  from  one  to  another  of  the  less  over- 
crowded Swiss  mountain  resorts,  and  now  they  had  rented 
a  solitary  little  chalet  at  Filisburg,  just  above  Lucerne. 
Filisburg  was  only  a  few  hours  from  Basle,  and  to  Naomi 
it  immediately  presented  itself  as  a  respite,  for  her  dread 
of  Zouche,  and  the  effect  of  life  there  on  Roger,  had  grown 

238 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  239 

daily,  so  eagerly  suggested  that  the  least  Roger  could  do 
would  be  to  go  and  see  his  mother. 

At  first  Roger  demurred.  ...  He  wanted  to  see  his 
letters  at  Zouche,  he  wanted  to  see  Paul,  he  wanted  to  see 
Carson,  but  this  time  Naomi  persisted. 

"  Of  course,  we  must  go,"  she  declared.  "  Besides,"  she 
added,  blushing  softly,  "  you  forget  this  will  be  my  first 
visit  as  a  daughter-in-law." 

"Are  mothers-in-law  then  so  popular?"  Roger  scoffed; 
but  one  of  the  rare  gleams  of  pleasure  came  over  his  face. 
For  few  things  gratify  a  man  more  than  cordiality  between 
his  wife  and  his  own  relatives.  It  makes  what  he  vaguely 
lumps  together  as  "  things  "  more  pleasant  for  him,  and  he 
never  realizes  the  strain  or  the  give  and  take  it  entails  to 
adjust  a  middle  way  between  two  sets  of  feminine  inter- 
ests which  in  their  very  essence  must  needs  be  utterly 
opposed. 

"  She  was  so  good  to  me  at  Zouche,"  Naomi  maintained. 

"  Cc  que  femme  vent,  Dieii  veut,"  Roger  declared,  and 
then  he  added,  "  I  suppose  I  had  better  go  and  see  if  I  can 
get  a  motor  to  take  us  up  to  Filisburg." 

"  It  would  save  time  in  the  long  run  if  you  did."  Naomi 
retorted,  gay  because  Roger  was  gay,  "  and  at  the  same 
time,"  she  advised,  "  send  a  telegram  to  say  that  we  are 
coming,  and  I  will  be  ready  in  an  hour." 

They  left  Naomi's  maid  and  the  heavy  luggage  at  Basle, 
they  reached  Filisburg  just  when  the  shadows  were  begin- 
ning to  sweep  up  over  the  lake,  lying  in  the  valley  below 
the  little  village,  and  they  found  Amabelle  sitting  on  the 
veranda,  watching  for  them,  and  tea,  with  Swiss  honey, 
and  biscuit  de  Berne  awaiting  them.  Aimee  was  at  the  tea 
table,  and  as  Naomi  saw  the  girl  a  shade  of  uncertainty 
came  into  her  manner. 

She  had  not  forgotten  that  at  Zouche  Aimee  had  been  the 
only  member  of  the  family  to  display  any  open  hostility, 
besides,  the  girl  was  fully  grown  up  now,  as  she  would  have 
described  it  herself,  and  her  bright  clear  eyes  looked  from 
Roger's  face  to  Naomi's  as  if  asking  the  newly  married  wife 


240  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

why  gray  hairs  were  already  showing  about  her  husband's 
temples. 

"  You  will  stay  a  few  days  while  you  are  here?"  asked 
Amabelle  almost  wistfully. 

But  Roger  was  decided.  He  and  Naomi  must  leave  on 
the  morrow  in  time  to  catch  the  "  rapide  "  for  Boulogne  at 
Basle,  and  then,  to  explain  his  haste,  he  began  to  tell  his 
mother  once  more  of  his  urgent  need  to  see  Paul. 

The  eagerness,  the  anticipation  had  its  usual  eilfect  on 
Naomi.  It  frightened  her,  dismayed  her,  and  just  to  push 
it  away,  as  one  does  interpose  the  first  remark  which  comes 
into  one's  head  between  one's  self  and  that  which  is  un- 
pleasant to  hear,  she  asked  a  question  about  Paul's  mar- 
riage. 

"  I  consider  I  made  that  marriage,"  broke  in  Aimee,  sud- 
denly sitting  up  very  straight  and  endeavoring  to  look  vastly 
important. 

"  You  !    Pray,  why  you?  "  asked  Roger  lightly. 

"  Because  if  it  had  not  been  for  me,  Victoria  would  still 
be  buried  up  to  her  neck  in  scruples,  and  Billy  would  be  still 
tied  down  to  that  '  I  have  done  it  and  must  stick  to  it ' 
engagement,"  the  girl  answered,  and  she  rattled  off  a 
sketch  of  her  interview  with  Billy  and  its  final  results. 

Naomi  laughed  heartily.  She  was  young  enough,  she  was 
feminine  enough,  for  any  real  woman  is  eternally  a  match- 
maker at  sight,  to  sympathize  with  Aimee,  and  for  a  minute 
or  two  she  asked  questions,  and  Aimee  answered  them, 
exceedingly  pleased  to  find  herself  accepted  as  the  dens  ex 
machina  of  the  Marketel  marriage. 

Then  all  at  once  Naomi  looked  over  to  Roger. 

"  What  is  it?  "  she  faltered,  seeing  his  gloomy  face. 

"  How  did  Billy  afford  to  go  on  that  expedition  if  he 
had  to  put  i2,000  into  it  ?  "  Roger  muttered. 

"  Don't  you  know  ? "  Aimee  exclaimed.  "  Billy  had 
i2,000  sent  to  him." 

"  Sent  ?  "  repeated  Roger. 

"  Yes,  in  two  Bank  of  England  notes,  of  il,000  each. 
They  were  left  at  his  rooms  .  .  .  the  very  sum  he  wanted." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  241 

"  Curious  !  "  commented  Roger  curtly.  "  Did  Billy  say 
who  sent  them?" 

"  That  Mr.  Buzby  of  his,  of  course ! " 

"  Buzby,"  repeated  Roger.  "  Aimee,"  and  his  voice  rang 
with  an  imperative  note,  "  are  you  sure  Billy  said  Buzby 
sent  them?  " 

"  Quite,"  the  girl  answered. 

"  You  mean  Edward  Buzby,  the  absconding  trustee," 
Roger  persisted. 

"  The  same,"  Aimee  answered,  "  only  Billy  put  it  dif- 
ferently. He  spoke  of  him  as  the  man  who  borrowed  his 
money,  and  was  in  a  hurry  to  pay  it  back." 

Roger  laughed  disagreeably,  he  rose  and  went  abruptly 
along  the  veranda,  down  the  little  steps,  across  the  strip  of 
pebble-strewn  ground, — which  Swiss  notions  labeled  a 
garden, — and  plunged  into  the  pine  woods  beyond. 

"  What  is  wrong  with  his  Highness?  "  asked  Aimee  pertly. 

Naomi  turned  to  her  mother-in-law.  The  action  was 
involuntary,  and  into  both  their  minds  came  the  remem- 
brance of  the  hour  in  the  Queen  Anne  room  when  Amabelle 
had  warned  her  that  Roger  would  be  difficult  to  live  with. 
But  neither  of  them  was  a  woman  to  cry  out  easily.  They 
sat  on,  side  by  side,  until  Naomi  felt  she  could  get  up  and 
suggest  that  she  would  like  to  have  a  good  view  of  the  lake 
by  the  evening  lights. 

Aimee  half  rose  to  accompany  her,  but  a  look  from  Ama- 
belle checked  the  girl,  and  Naomi  went  down  into  the  pine 
woods  alone.  There  was  a  little  path,  and  she  followed  it, 
until  she  saw  that  it  ended  in  a  gap  at  the  brow  of  the 
mountain. 

That  gap  was  carefully  railed  across,  and  leaning  against 
the  rails  was  Roger.  Naomi  hurried  to  him,  she  slid  her 
hand  through  his  arm. 

"  You,"  he  said,  hardly  turning  his  head,  and  then,  after 
a  pause,  he  added  grimly,  "  It's  a  good  long  drop  down 
there." 

That  was  what  he  saw.  Neither  the  beauty  of  one  of  the 
most  incomparable  views  in  Europe,  nor  the  gilding  and 


242  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

softening  of  the  sunset  glow,  but  just  the  height  of  his 
elevation,  the  drop  into  the  lake  below. 

"  Oh !  Roger,"  protested  Naomi,  aghast. 

"  I'm  not  a  coward,  generally,"  Roger  muttered,  "  but  now 
I  can  understand  the  temptation  of  that,"  and  he  stabbed  his 
forefinger  downwards.  "  I  think  if  I  were  certain  nothing 
would  come  of  Paul's  discovery,  I  might  almost  be 
driven " 

"  But  something  will  come  of  it,  something  must,"  Naomi 
cried  out.  She  pulled  up  as  abruptly  as  she  had  spoken. 
She,  wishing  for  discovery!  Prophesying  it!  Again  she 
was  caught  between  the  upper  and  the  under  millstones  and 
ground  between  them. 

"  Naomi,"  Roger  began,  turning  so  abruptly  that  he  jerked 
her  hand  out  of  his  arm — "you  heard  what  Aimee  said?" 

"  What  about  ?  " 

"  Billy  and  his  £2,000." 

"Well?" 

"  Well !  His  statement  that  Buzby  returned  that  money 
was  a  lie." 

"  A  lie,"  she  faltered.    "  How  do  you  know?  " 

"  Buzby  was  dead  then." 

"  Dead !  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Are — are  you  sure  ?  " 

"  Perfectly  sure !  "  Roger  went  on.  "  I  know,  because 
when  Paul  took  over  Victoria's  aflfairs,  for  some  reason  or 
other  he  insisted  on  my  being  her  trustee.  I  had  to  go  into 
things  to  the  very  foundation,  of  course,  and  so  I  had  to 
inquire  about  Buzby's  whereabouts.  He  sailed  on  a  tramp 
steamer  for  the  Argentine,  heard  somehow  he  would  be 
arrested  at  La  Plata,  and  threw  himself  overboard  five  days 
before  they  got  into  port." 

"  Then  he  is  dead !  "  Naomi  exclaimed,  her  mind  going 
back  involuntarily  to  that  other  scoundrel  who  was  reported 
to  have  passed  away  and  was  still  alive. 

"  You  see,"  Roger  went  on,  "  he  couldn't  have  sent  Billy 
that  money." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  243 

"  Then,  where  did  Billy  get  it  ?  "  Naomi  asked. 

"  That  is  exactly  what  I  want  to  know,"  Roger  retorted. 

"  What  do  you  mean?  "  his  wife  gasped. 

"  Truth  can  be  inconvenient." 

"You  don't  think  that  Billy  was  deliberately  telling  a 
lie?" 

"  I  was  thinking  that  whoever  stole  the  Chinese  memo- 
randum would  be  well  paid  for  it,"  Roger  answered  de- 
fiantly. 

Naomi  drew  back  a  pace.  It  was  the  first  time  that  Roger 
had  said  in  so  many  words  that  the  thief  might  be  one  of 
his  personal  friends.  But  Naomi  knew  that  ever  since  he 
had  indignantly  scouted  the  notion,  when  Carson  first  made 
it,  the  suggestion  had  been  working  in  his  mind,  and  spread- 
ing amid  his  thoughts,  just  as  the  virus  of  a  disease  spreads 
through  the  human  frame. 

She  put  up  both  her  hands  with  a  supplicating  gesture. 

"  Don't  suspect  Billy,"  she  implored,  "  don't !  .  .  .  It's  so 
awful — so  unlike  you." 

"  Then  let  Billy  explain,"  Roger  retorted  hardly. 

"  Billy  can  explain !  "  she  persisted. 

"  Can  he?  "  mocked  Roger.    "  I'm  not  so  sure." 

"  You  don't  mean  you  really  think  Billy  took  that 
money?  "  Naomi  protested.  "  Impossible.  It  is  impossible, 
Roger !  "  she  clamored.  "  Why,  even  to  think  of  him  in 
such  a  connection  is  monstrous,  unjust." 

"  Unjust,"  Roger  echoed  angrily. 

He  stepped  back  from  his  wife,  and  looked  at  her,  as  if 
she  had  suddenly  arrayed  herself  amid  his  foes. 

"  Don't  you  want  me  to  be  cleared?"  he  asked  roughly. 
"  I  had  noticed  before  that  you  sometimes  seem  as  if  you 
don't  really  go  with  me.  You  might  not  want  me  to  be 
cleared." 

Naomi  shrank  away.  They  had  gone  on  another  step 
down  the  fatal  incline.  He  was  beginning  to  wonder  at  her 
attitude — next  he  would — what  would  he  think  next? 

The  possibility  made  her  turn  pale.  Roger  saw  the  ebb 
of  color  from  her  cheeks  and  construed  it  very  differently. 


244  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Dearest,"  he  exclaimed,  "  have  I  been  such  a  brute  as 
that !  I  didn't  mean  to  hurt  you.  But  someone  must  have 
stolen  that  memorandum,  somewhere  the  actual  thief  must 
be  living,  smiling,  going  along  untroubled,  while  I  .  .  . 
I  ...  I  am  living  in  purgatory.  Listen,  dear,"  he  hurried 
along,  "  suppose  in  my  anxiety  I  do  alight  on  the  wrong 
man.  He  can  clear  himself  in  a  couple  of  minutes  and 
what  is  two  minutes'  disagreeableness  compared  to  my 
weeks  of  hell?  You,"  he  went  on,  his  indignation  rising 
again,  "  you  think  of  the  injustice  to  my  friends.  What 
of  the  injustice  to  me?  Do  you  never  take  that  into  con- 
sideration ?  " 

"  Roger,"  Naomi  protested,  "  I  think  of  it  always.  I 
think  of  it  continually." 

They  had  come  to  the  deadlock  where  their  conversation 
so  often  had  recently  led  them.  They  stood  silent,  each  of 
them  feeling  that  this  brooding  hung  as  a  black  curtain 
between  them,  and  then  the  tinkle  of  a  little  gong,  coming 
with  its  trivial  thin  sound  through  the  still  night  air,  sug- 
gested to  Naomi  that  she  must  go  back  to  the  chalet  and 
dress. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Early  next  morning  Naomi  and  Roger  left  Filisburg.  The 
parting  between  the  two  women  was  affectionate.  Though 
Naomi  had  made  a  determined  effort  to  be  cheerful,  gay 
evei  from  the  time  she  came  down  to  dinner  until  she  was 
safe  within  the  solitude  of  her  own  room,  Amabelle  was 
not  deceived.  Naomi  was  paying  as  big  a  price  as  Roger, 
she  told  herself,  although  she  had  seen  that  though  it  was 
the  first  time  they  had  met  after  months  of  separation,  the 
cloud  had  never  once  lifted  from  her  son's  face,  that,  even 
after  her  most  determined  efforts  to  recapture  some  of  that 
intimate  gaiety  which  used  to  characterize  their  meetings, 
Roger  had  stood  out  on  the  balcony  of  his  room,  staring 
into  the  darkness  almost  until  the  first  flush  of  dawn  lit  up 
the  snow-topped  peaks  around  the  cMlet. 

Once  on  their  way,  Roger's  feverishness  seemed  to  in- 
crease. It  took  an  unexpected  turn,  for  it  fastened  on  the 
invitations  he  had  sent  as  his  first  objective.  By  the  answer 
to  them,  he  would  know  how  he  stood  in  his  neighbors' 
estimation,  so  without  so  much  as  waiting  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  Paul  Marketel,  who  they  heard  was  out  of  town  until 
the  following  day,  he  and  Naomi  drove  from  Victoria 
straight  to  Liverpool  Street  Station  and  reached  Zouche  in 
the  afternoon. 

The  day  seemed  to  have  adapted  itself  especially  to  the 
homecoming  of  the  bridal  pair.  The  beech  trees — and  in 
East  Anglia  the  beeches  take  on  themselves  a  feast  of  color 
— were  all  ablaze,  the  little  wreaths  of  blue  mist  softened 
'the  distance,  and  yet  hardly  veiled  it. 

Littkport,  with  his  best  smile,  was  at  the  door  awaiting 
them,  and,  since  he  felt  that  the  homecoming  should  not  be 
without  its  celebration,  he  had  ordered  the  second  footman 
to  set  every  bell  in  the  house  a  jingle. 

245 


246  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Roger  did  not  seem  to  hear  the  welcoming  jangle,  he  had 
hardly  a  word  to  say  to  Littleport.  He  walked  hastily 
through  the  hall  towards  the  Chinese  Room. 

Naomi  followed  him.  She  never  entered  the  Chinese 
Room  if  she  could  help  it,  since  her  mother's  visit  to  Zouche, 
but  she  told  herself  that  henceforth  she  must  not  shun  it. 
Littleport  had  given  her  a  lead  there. 

"  I  have  just  put  the  tea  in  the  Chinese  Room,  my  Lady," 
he  said  aside  to  her.  For  one  moment  Naomi  did  not  under- 
stand, then  she  turned  gratefully  to  the  old  man.  "  That 
was  just  like  you,"  she  said,  "  thank  you." 

She  saw  what  he  had  meant  to  convey.  The  guilty  avoid 
the  locality  of  their  crime — not  so  the  innocent.  It  was  the 
old  man's  understanding  which  had  made  him  force  them 
to  begin  their  home  life  there. 

Littleport  had  made  all  possible  arrangements  for  their 
comfort;  the  tea  table  was  drawn  up  to  the  fire,  Roger's 
chair  was  on  one  side,  and  what  Littleport  himself  would 
have  described  as  "  a  nice  chair  for  a  lady  "  on  the  other. 

The  picture  spoke  of  intimacy,  of  repose,  but  Naomi 
looked  past  it  to  the  letters  on  the  desk. 

Roger  went  straight  to  them.  Under  normal  conditions 
he  would  have  had  something  to  say  to  his  wife  about  their 
homecoming,  but  now  he  had  no  thought  for  anything  but 
these  letters;  they  represented  the  touchstone  of  his  Fate. 
That  this  was  their  first  hour  together  in  their  home  was 
not  even  present  to  his  mind.  He  sorted  out  quickly  the 
business  envelopes  and  the  circulars.  Then  he  opened  the 
others  .  .  .  one,  two  .  .  .  three,  four,  five  .  .  .  they 
were  all  regrets— excuses,  refusals.  Naomi  stood  on  the 
other  side  of  the  desk  watching  him ;  his  lips  set  themselves 
with  a  thinner  line,  and  she  saw  the  hard  look  in  his  eyes. 

He  pushed  two  notes  over  to  her  with  a  cynical  laugh. 
"  Admiral  Mainby  regrets  he  cannot  accept  my  invitation," 
he  said.  "  He  doesn't  even  trouble  to  invent  an  excuse ;  and 
he  has  never  missed  the  opening  day  here  since  my  mother 
came  back  to  live  at  Zouche."  He  dropped  the  curt  note  on 
the  floor  as  though  it  burned  his  fingers  and  went  on,  point- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  247 

ing  to  another :  "  This  is  from  Victor  Hempsworth,  he  and 
I  were  at  Eton  together.  He's  shot  with  me  and  I've  shot 
with  him  ever  since  we  had  a  gun  apiece — he  '  regrets  that 
he  has  a  previous  engagement.'  " 

Naomi  came  up  to  her  husband  and  laid  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  "  He  might  be  engaged  really,"  she  faltered. 
"  You  didn't  give  them  much  time.  You  know  shooting 
engagements  are  made  so  far  ahead." 

Roger  shook  his  head,  walked  away,  and  went  to  the  tea 
table. 

"  Come  here,"  he  called  out  savagely.  "  Sit  down,  let  us 
have  tea — at  least  we  can  eat  and  drink.  You  see  what  life 
with  me  will  be  like  !  " 

That  night,  while  they  were  having  dinner,  a  messenger 
brought  over  a  note  from  Annie  Tune.  Mrs.  Tune,  of 
course,  had  heard  of  the  return  to  Zouche,  and  took  the 
earliest  opportunity  of  inviting  Roger  and  his  wife  to  a 
garden  party  she  happened  to  be  giving  on  the  morrow. 

The  De  la  Hayes  were  at  dessert  when  the  invitation  came. 
Naomi  opened  it  and  passed  it  quickly  across  to  Roger. 
"  Look  at  that,"  she  began  joyously,  for  her  first  thought 
was  to  set  this  off  against  the  rebuffs  of  the  afternoon. 

Roger  just  glanced  at  the  note,  written  on  expensive  paper 
of  the  newest  color,  and  his  lips  curled. 

"  What  is  it?  "  Naomi  asked  quickly. 

"Don't  you  understand?"  he  returned  irritably.  "It  is 
very  good  of  Annie  Tune  to  ask  us.  I'll  be  bound  she  is 
thinking  so  herself,  but  I  happen  to  know  she'd  sit  down  to 
lunch  with  a  murderer  if  she  thought  all  the  countryside 
would  talk  about  her  doing  it." 

Naomi  had  never  heard  this  bitter  accent  before — the  dis- 
graced man  was  speaking — the  man  wounded  to  the  quick 
by  what  he  knew  (or  imagined)  other  people  might  be 
thinking  of  him. 

"Couldn't  Mrs.  Tune  really  want  to  see  you?"  she 
faltered. 

"  Want  to  see  me,"  he  exclaimed,  and  then  he  laughed. 

Naomi  rose.    She  had  special  trouble  with  her  dress  for 


248  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

this  evening,  for  she  felt  that  if  she  failed  to  hold  him  to- 
night her  case  was  indeed  hopeless.  The  purple  gown  with 
the  band  of  deep  red  round  her  waist  set  off  her  fairness. 
The  white  arms  gleamed  alluringly  through  the  long  folds 
of  chiffon  which  veiled  them,  her  neck  and  shoulders  were 
bare  but  for  the  slender  chain  from  which  hung  her  favorite 
jewel :  a  blue-white  aquamarine. 

She  pushed  back  the  Venetian  plate — she  had  ordered 
Littleport  to  use  these  plates  tonight  in  order  to  recall  to 
Roger's  mind  their  Italian  wanderings — and  she  noticed  sub- 
consciously how  the  flecks  of  gold  gleamed  against  the 
mahogany  of  the  table. 

She  went  and  stood  behind  her  husband. 

She  leaned  over  him,  apparently  to  pick  up  Annie  Tune's 
note.  In  reality,  the  movement  was  a  calculated  though  in- 
stinctive attempt  to  thrust  herself — her  warm,  pulsating 
personality,  her  passionate  heart — between  Roger  and  his 
pain. 

There  was  nothing  of  the  wanton  about  Naomi,  she  would 
never  appeal  to  the  flesh  for  the  gratification  of  the  senses, 
but  now,  because  she  had  all  but  come  to  the  last  ditch,  she 
was  driven  to  putting  the  power  of  her  personality  to  the 
test.  Was  she,  Naomi — the  warmth  of  her — the  beauty  of 
her — the  woman,  the  wife,  the  strongest  thing  in  Roger's 
life,  or  was  the  thought  of  his  disgrace  more  powerful  than 
his  love? 

Roger  sat  on  without  moving.  He  did  not  even  lay  his 
hand  over  her  hand — he  did  not  even  turn  his  head  that  his 
cheek  might  touch  her  arm.  Just  then,  Annie  Tune's  invi- 
tation— the  motive  of  it — the  significance  of  it,  was  greater, 
nearer,  than  the  presence  of  the  woman  who  loved  him. 

"  We  had  better  put  in  an  appearance  tomorrow.  If  we 
don't  go,  it  will  be  signing  our  own  death  warrant,  if  we 
do,  people  may  say  they  don't  want  to  be  seen  in  my  com- 
pany," he  muttered  gloomily. 

Naomi  stepped  back.  She  was  glad  Roger  could  not  see 
her  face.    She  in  her  own  person  had  failed — she  saw  that. 

"  Shall  I  go  and  answer  Mrs.  Tune's  letter  at  once?  "  she 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  249 

commanded  herself  sufficiently  to  ask  in  a  very  quiet  voice. 

"  Please  do,"  said  Roger  briefly. 

He  pushed  back  his  chair.  He  left  untouched  the  fruit 
on  his  plate,  but  he  drank  the  wine  in  his  glass  and  though 
he  was  always  abstemious,  he  filled  the  glass  once  again. 

The  next  afternoon,  Naomi  went  up  early  to  get  ready 
for  Annie  Tune's  garden  party.  She  carefully  reviewed  her 
dresses  before  she  decided  on  the  particular  one  she  would 
wear — it  was  important  that  she  should  strike  exactly  the 
right  note.  When  she  was  quite  ready,  she  found  that  she 
had  a  few  minutes  to  wait.  She  dropped  into  a  chair,  and 
sat  with  her  hands  in  her  lap,  thinking.  She  put  the  truth 
before  herself  without  evasion.  On  her  side,  her  love  for 
Roger  had  grown,  and  so  also  had  grown  her  perception  of 
the  enormity  of  the  thing  that  she  had  done.  This  percep- 
tion had  begun  to  haunt  her  in  Venice,  but  since  the  return 
to  Zouche,  it  had  been  hardly  out  of  her  mind,  and  as  a 
result  of  this  persistency,  there  grew  up  a  new  fear.  Would 
the  truth  overmaster  her?  Would  her  inward  upbraiding 
force  her  to  convict  herself  out  of  her  own  mouth  ?  Such 
things  had  happened  before.  For  all  she  knew,  having  once 
walked  in  her  sleep,  she  might  do  so  again,  might  speak  next 
time,  and  blurt  out  all  the  truth. 

"  Not  that,  not  that,"  she  murmured  to  herself. 

With  some  temperaments,  after  confession  there  might 
follow  that  convenient  makeshift  known  as  "  beginning  all 
over  again,"  but  Roger  would  never  be  able  to  pass  a  sponge 
over  the  slate  in  that  way.  If  his  idol  fell  off  the  pedestal 
— it  would  stay  on  the  ground — the  pieces,  to  his  mind, 
would  not  be  worth  the  trouble  of  putting  together. 

Naomi  knew  this.  She  had  often  been  dismayed  by  a 
certain  quality  of  finality  in  Roger.  "  A  thing  either  is  or 
is  not,"  he  had  once  told  her,  and  when  she  pleaded  the 
extenuating  circumstances,  he  had  asked  her  almost  fiercely 
if  extenuating  circumstances  in  any  way  made  up  for  the 
lost  ideal. 

Naomi's  dismal  reflections  had  reached  this  point  when 
her  maid  came  in  to  tell  her  that  the  car  was  waiting. 


250  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

She  went  downstairs  trying  to  smile,  and  all  the  way  to 
Annie  Tune's  house  she  purposely  asked  Roger  questions 
about  hedgerows,  shelters,  drives — all  the  miscellaneous 
items  of  the  shooting  season,  that  he  might  not  have  time 
to  think  of  what  was  before  him. 

Annie  Tune  welcomed  her  friends  at  the  open  window  of 
what  she  called  her  studio,  principally  because  the  room  had 
a  terra-cotta  Venus  on  a  pedestal  in  one  corner,  and  a  dozen 
uncertain  sketches  of  the  dear  lady's  own  production  on 
the  walls. 

"  I  always  give  my  garden  parties  late  in  the  year,"  she 
said  as  she  shook  hands,  first  with  Naomi  and  then  with 
Roger. 

"  Now  confess,"  she  went  on  skittishly,  "  you  did  think 
outside  parties  were  over  for  this  year." 

"  That  makes  it  all  the  more  delightful  to  find  one's  self 
wrong,"  returned  Naomi,  trying  to  answer  in  the  same  tone, 
but  Roger  looked  grim,  for  as  they  entered  the  room  he  had 
heard  his  hostess  remark  in  an  audible  aside  (Annie  Tune's 
asides  were  usually  more  audible  than  her  direct  conversa- 
tion), "  Yes,  that  is  the  new  Lady  de  la  Haye.  I  asked  them 
on  purpose  last  evening  as  soon  as  ever  I  was  sure  they  had 
returned.  It  will  help  them,  perhaps,  if  they  are  seen  here. 
I  like  to  strike  a  note — the  individual  note,  and  after  all,  I 

have  known  his  mother "  and  the  voice  trailed  ofif  into  a 

mumble  before  they  came  to  her.  It  is  the  present-day 
fashion  to  represent  any  well-dressed  gathering  as  funda- 
mentally malicious,  especially  by  those  whose  only  partici- 
pation will  be  through  the  park  railing,  but  though  the 
temptation  to  a  cheap  witticism  at  another's  expense  is 
ever  present,  in  no  rank  of  life  is  there  a  greater  disposition 
to  help  the  less  fortunate,  above  all  to  succor  the  coura- 
geous. 

So  now,  though  some  of  Mrs.  Tune's  guests  might  be 
ready  to  whisper  among  themselves,  the  general  conclusion 
was  that  the  new  Lady  de  la  Haye  must  have  something 
sterling  in  her,  or  she  would  not  have  married  at  the  precise 
moment  she  did. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  251 

Towards  Roger,  feeling  was  less  kindly.  His  guilt  seemed 
so  certain,  and  his  theft  particularly  treacherous. 

There  had  been  an  informal  conclave  (at  which,  by  the 
way,  Annie  Tune  was  not  present)  of  the  leaders  of  the 
county. 

The  local  marchioness — a  plump  old  lady  with  a  lisp  and 
such  pretty  blue  eyes  that  for  all  her  sixty  years  many  a 
young  girl  envied  them — called  the  tune. 

"  You  see  Amabelle  de  la  Haye  is  a  dear  friend  of  mine," 
she  had  said  with  her  undecided  decision.  And  now,  as 
Roger  and  his  wife  stepped  on  to  Annie  Tune's  conven- 
tionally cropped  lawn,  the  little  old  lady,  with  a  scarf  oi 
ivory-tinted  lace  floating  behind  her,  bustled  forward. 

"  My  dear,"  she  began  breathlessly  to  Naomi,  a  spot  of 
pink  in  either  soft  cheek,  "  I  am  coming  t-to  call  on  you 
t-to-morrow." 

Roger  heard  the  eager  greeting.    He  frowned.    He  under- 
stood.    He  was  sure  that  even  the  cold  civility  of  leaving 
cards  had  been  debated.     He  stiffened  for  very  pain.     Up 
till  now,  Roger  had  been  genial — gay ;  children  went  readily 
to  him,  and  old  people  called  him  a  "  nice  boy." 
The  little  flurried  lady  put  out  her  hand. 
"  Roger,"  she  said,  very  deliberately,  "  have  you  heard 
f-f rom  your  mother  lately  ?    L-1-l-love  your  mother,  Roger." 
The  tall  man  interpreted  that  again  and  read  it  to  mean : 
"  I  consider  you  guilty,  but  I  am  going  to  tolerate  you  for 
your  mother's  sake." 

He  replied  with  yet  more  restraint  and  the  plump-par- 
tridge little  peeress  tried  another  advance. 

"  What  a  b-beautiful  woman  your  wife  is,"  she  said. 
Roger  half  smiled  at  that,  but  the  next  moment  the  bitter 
thought  flashed  through  his  mind  of   what  his  beautiful 
Naomi  would  have  to  endure. 

Meanwhile,  with  such  a  lead  to  guide  them,  the  lesser 
lights  were  paying  eager  court  to  Naomi.  She  exerted  her- 
self to  please — she  must  make  a  favorable  impression  on  the 
people  among  whom  Roger  moved. 

Someone  invited  her  to  explore  the  garden.     Someone 


252  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

else  brought  her  a  cup  of  wushy-looking  tea :  Annie  Tune's 
tea  always  seemed  to  bear  a  resemblance  to  herself.  It  was 
never  warm  enough — there  was  generally  too  much  milk 
in  it,  and  nine  times  out  of  ten  there  was  a  pool  in  the 
saucer. 

Naomi  took  the  tepid  tea  cheerfully  enough.  Just  as 
she  replied  generally  to  any  remark  which  might  be  made  to 
her,  she  saw  Roger  would  never  put  out  a  finger  to  help 
himself — the  more  he  was  hurt  the  less  he  would  propitiate. 
If  anyone  were  to  sway  opinion  it  must  be  herself — and 
she  hoped  to  make  good  progress  this  afternoon. 

Before  long,  Mrs.  Tune  came  breathlessly  into  view ;  and 
it  was  well  that  Roger  did  not  hear  her  explain,  as  she 
hurried  towards  his  wife,  "  I  must  see  how  that  poor  girl  is 
getting  along." 

"  Entertaining  is  so  exhausting,"  she  began  as  she  pulled 
up  and  gave  a  wrench  to  the  "  creation  "  which  sat  so  un- 
certainly on  her  head — "  Don't  you  think,"  she  went  on, 
"  that  people  are  so  much  easier  to  entertain  abroad  ?  " 

Naomi  looked  uneasily  at  the  flurried  woman.  It  was 
evident  that  Mrs.  Tune's  mind  had  at  least  looked  up  the 
fact  that  there  was  some  connection  between  the  new  Lady 
de  la  Haye  and  what  local  phraseology  called  "  them  foreign 
parts." 

"  What  a  pretty  garden  you  have,"  the  girl  began,  and 
still  to  switch  off  her  hostess's  volatile  mind,  "  What  a 
pretty  old  path  that  is,"  she  added,  as  she  hastily  glanced 
over  a  low  box  hedge. 

"  It  is  never  damp — not  even  on  the  worst  day,"  Mrs. 
Tune  returned.  "  Come  and  see  "my  fountain,"  she  con- 
tinued, and  put  her  arm  through  Naomi's  and  walked  her 
off  without  even  waiting  for  an  assent,  and  then  the  good 
lady  went  on  to  say  that  the  fountain  was  her  own  taste, 
and  she  had  chosen  the  design  of  three  storks,  each  one 
standing  on  its  left  leg,  to  replace  an  old  moss-grown 
basin. 

"  I  hate  old  things  just  because  they  are  old,"  she  went  on, 
airing  another  of  her  oft-repeated  observations,  and  then,  as 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  253 

Naomi  carefully  dissented,  just  to  provoke  further  asser- 
tions, Roger  joined  them. 

That  switched  back  Mrs.  Tune's  mind  to  its  original 
connection. 

"  Do  you  know,"  she  began  to  Naomi,  "  I  have  been 
thinking  a  great  deal  of  that  winter  I  was  in  Nice." 

"  Were  you  in  Nice  ?  "  said  Roger.  "  My  wife  passed 
some  time  there." 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  she  told  me  she  had,"  began  Mrs.  Tune. 

"  What  year  were  you  there  ?  "  Naomi  had  to  ask. 

"  Let  me  see,"  Mrs.  Tune  debated,  "  it  was — it  was  the 
year  that  big  fat  man  was  there " 

Naomi  turned  as  if  she  would  hurry  out  of  the  little 
inclosure  back  on  to  the  lawn.  Mrs.  Tune  was  coming  un- 
mistakably to  Strum.  A  Httle  more,  Naomi  told  herself,  and 
she  might  be  forced  to  admit  that  she  had  known  the  man. 

She  might  have  recollected,  had  she  time  to  think, — but 
then,  when  one  is  in  a  panic  it  is  exactly  the  time  to  think 
that  is  denied  one, — that  the  Strum  episode  belonged  to  her 
first  winter  in  Nice,  when  it  pleased  Mrs.  Melsham  to  pro- 
claim that  her  daughter  was  too  young  to  go  out,  and 
therefore  though  Naomi  might  be  known  to  the  habitues  of 
the  Villa,  she  was  unknown  to  the  casual  stranger  on  the 
Promenade  des  Anglais. 

"Don't  you  remember  him?"  Mrs.  Tune  went  on. 
"  What  was  his  name — something  to  do  with  water — or  was 
it  steam?  I  have  it,"  she  went  on,  and  she  looked  up 
triumphantly. 

"  Hermann  Strum." 

"  Hermann  Strum  !  "  exclaimed  Roger. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Tune.  "  I  remember  now,  I  saw  him 
ever  so  often — twice  at  least,  with  that  Frenchman  who  was 
staying  with  you  in  the  summer." 

"  Armand  de  Rochecorbon  and  Hermann  Strum  to- 
gether," Roger  exclaimed,  "  you  must  be  mistaken." 

"  No,"  said  Mrs.  Tune  decisively,  "  I'm  not,  I'm  sure  it 
was  that  French  friend  of  yours  with  Strum." 

Naomi  listened  so  petrified  with  fear  that  she  was  tongue- 


254  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

tied,  and  then  the  Httle  peeress  came  up  to  say  good-by  to 
her  hostess,  and  whether  they  would  or  would  not,  she  swept 
Roger  and  Naomi  back  into  the  lawn,  one  on  either  side  of 
her,  but  at  the  first  opportunity  Roger  touched  his  wife's 
arm. 

"  We  must  be  going,"  he  said  briefly.  Naomi  nodded. 
The  moment  was  well  chosen  from  her  point  of  view.  Mrs. 
Tune  had  waddled  back  into  the  lawn,  and  with  most  of  a 
hundred  people  looking  on,  Roger  could  not  ask  again 
about  Strum. 

There  was  of  course  a  final  flow  of  irrelevancies  from 
Mrs.  Tune,  but  at  length  Roger  and  Naomi  found  them- 
selves in  their  own  motor.  Naomi  sat  back  with  a  sigh  of 
relief.  But  the  car  was  hardly  started  before  Roger  turned 
on  her. 

"  Did  you  hear  what  she  said  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  What  who  said?  "  Naomi  returned. 

"  Annie  Tune,"  he  answered.  "  Surely  you  must  remem- 
ber. She  said  Armand  was  always  about  with  a  man  called 
Strum." 

"  I  think  she  narrowed  it  down  to  twice,"  his  w'lie  ven- 
tured. 

"  Twice  is  as  many  times  too  often,"  Roger  retorted 
irritably.  "  You  can't  have  forgotten  that  Paul  wrote  and 
said  he  had  found  out  that  the  Chinese  memorandum  had 
been  sold  to  the  Olympic  by  a  scoundrel  named  Strum." 

"  No,"  exclaimed  Naomi,  bitter  on  her  own  account  for 
once,  "  I  never  forget  that." 

"  Well,  then,"  demanded  Roger,  "  what  was  Armand  do- 
ing walking  along  the  Promenade  des  Anglais  with  a  scoun- 
drel like  that?  " 

"  It  was  ages  ago,"  interposed  Naomi  weakly. 

Roger  did  not  reply.  His  wife  glanced  at  him  sideways. 
She  was  beginning  to  hope  that  her  allusion  to  time,  and  the 
implication  it  carried  with  it  that  the  Strum  of  that  day 
need  not  necessarily  be  possessed  of  the  reputation  of  the 
scoundrel  of  the  present  time,  had  soothed  Roger,  but  the 
next  moment  she  knew  to  what  point  his  mind  was  working. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  255 

"  I  have  told  you  before,"  he  said,  "  that  Carson  is  con- 
vinced that  the  memorandum  was  copied  by  someone  in  the 
house.    Here  is  possibility  number  two." 

"  Surely,"  cried  out  Naomi,  aghast,  "  you  are  not  going  to 
suspect  Armand  next  ?  " 

"  I'll  suspect  anyone,  everyone  as  I  told  you  before," 
declared  Roger  roughly.  "  I  don't  care  what  I  do  to  get  at 
the  truth.  This  afternoon  must  have  shown  you  what  people 
think  of  me.  I  can't  sit  still  under  such  suspicion.  I'll — I'll 
leave  no  stone  unturned  to  clear  myself.  Carson  nearly 
threw  up  the  whole  thing  because  I  wouldn't  let  him  come 
down  and  begin  at  Zouche.  I  was  a  fool.  Why  shouldn't 
he  come?  " 

Naomi  had  not  a  word  to  answer. 

Another  stone  had  been  pulled  out  of  the  defense  she  had 
built  up  about  herself. 

She  looked  miserably  before  her — however  was  it  all 
going  to  end?     Or  rather  could  there  be  but  one  ending? 

"  Carson  was  right,"  Roger  went  on  vehemently,  "  I  must 
stick  at  nothing." 

Naomi  looked  at  him  in  dismay.  He  was  escaping  further 
and  further  from  her.  She  was  quiet  for  a  few  moments, 
and  then  almost  timidly  she  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  Don't  do  anything  hastily,"  she  faltered. 

Roger  did  not  answer.  Was  the  suggestion  to  dally  not 
even  worth  a  contradiction — or  had  he  not  even  heard  her 
plea?  Naomi  slipped  back  farther  into  the  corner  of  the 
car.  She  looked  at  the  swiftly  passing  hedgerows — they 
seemed  to  dip  and  bow  mockingly,  as  if  they  said,  "  You  see, 
you  see,  what  a  fool  you  were."  A  little  more  and  the  car 
swept  through  the  gates  and  up  the  drive.  When  it  pulled 
up,  Naomi  got  out.  She  went  up  the  steps  into  the  house 
(her  house  at  what  a  price!)  and  stopped  in  the  hall  to  find 
out  what  Roger  meant  to  do. 

"  I  am  going  to  telephone  to  Carson,"  he  announced. 

"  No,  no,"  she  faltered. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked  sharply. 

"  Because,"  she  began — she  was  going  to  say,  "  Because  I 


256  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

would  be  of  no  use" — and  stopped.    What  could  she  say? 

"  There,"  struck  in  Roger,  irritably.  "  You  see,  you  have 
no  real  reason.  Why  are  you  prejudiced  against  my  going 
to  Carson  ?  " 

"  Did  you  not  hesitate  yourself  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  That  was  when  it  seemed  impossible  that  one  of  my 
friends  could  have  a  hand  in  the  business.  Now,  when  one 
hears  what  charming  company  Armand  frequented — and 
when  Billy  gets  i2,000  from  people  who  could  not  have 
sent  it  ... " 

"  Don't,  Roger,  don't  be  bitter,"  Naomi  implored. 

"  Bitter,"  he  commented  harshly. 

"  Armand  may  have  only  met  the — the  man  by  accident." 

"  Then  Carson  will  find  out,  and  I  shall  feel  reassured." 

"  Roger "  Naomi  began. 

He  turned  on  her. 

"  Why  do  you  want  to  stop  me  again  ?  "  he  demanded 
fiercely. 

She  said  nothing  more,  but  looked  at  him  piteously. 

"  There,"  he  said,  his  sensitiveness  touched  at  once. 
"  You  see,  I  am  behaving  like  a  brute  again." 

She  slipped  her  hand  into  his.  He  held  it  a  moment  and 
then  took  his  fingers  away. 

"  You  are  going  to  telephone?  "  she  asked. 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it  seems  the  best  thing  to  do,  the  only 
thing,  in  fact,  that  I  can  do." 

He  left  her  with  that.  She  saw  him  go  to  the  salon  and 
then  into  the  Chinese  Room.  He  must  have  left  the  door 
open,  for  the  next  minute  she  could  hear  him  calling  up 
Carson's  number  on  the  telephone. 

It  was  a  long-distance  call,  so  when  Roger  had  asked  for 
the  number  he  wanted,  he  put  back  the  receiver  with  such  a 
click  that  the  mere  act  betrayed  his  impatience  and  his 
nervous  tension.  It  was  evident  that  not  only  did  he  con- 
sider Annie  Tune's  chance  observation  of  importance,  but 
that,  the  more  he  thought  of  it,  the  deeper  he  was  pene- 
trated by  its  possible  significance. 

Naomi  tried  to  think  what  would  happen  when  Carson 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  257 

was  set  on  to  Strum's  trail.  She  recollected  a  clause  in 
Paul's  letter — an  added  word — which  she  had  read  at  the 
time  with  a  gasp  of  relief.  Paul  had  mentioned  that  Strum 
seemed  to  have  disappeared  from  the  moment  he  left  the 
office  of  the  Olympic.  At.  any  rate,  all  inquiries  so  far 
had  been  fruitless.  She  had  repeated  that  again  and  again 
to  herself.  "  Strum  has  disappeared,"  she  would  mutter 
when  she  was  alone.  It  had  seemed  such  a  safeguard — 
now,  she  saw  that  present  conditions  were  not  the  immediate 
concern:  it  was  things  as  they  had  been  which  primarily 
mattered. 

Any  detective  put  on  the  track  with  so  definite  a  clue, 
would  soon  find  out  that  in  Nice,  Strum  lived  by  his  wits, 
and  there  might  be  some  record  somewhere  of  money  pass- 
ing between  him  and  Armand.  Then,  if  Armand  were 
called  on  to  explain — what  would  he  say?  Or,  proceeding 
in  the  other  direction,  the  detectives  might  find  out  that 
Strum  had  been  received  at  the  Villa  Paul  et  Virginie,  and 
that  Armand  was  a  fellow-guest ;  then  how  could  she 
explain  to  her  husband  why  she  had  been  silent?  For  a 
moment,  in  her  extremity,  she  thought  she  might  say  that 
she  had  been  shielding  her  mother,  but  that  ray  of  hope 
only  upheld  her  for  an  instant,  and  then  at  this  point 
Littleport  appeared.     He  carried  a  telegram  on  his  salver. 

"  For  me?"  said  Naemi,  as  the  old  man  came  up. 

"  Yes,  my  Lady." 

She  took  up  the  envelope  listlessly.  She  felt  tired,  as 
if  she  had  been  working  hard.  They  were  expecting  Vic- 
toria and  Paul,  and  the  message  might  be  to  announce  their 
arrival  sooner  than  originally  arranged.  It  takes  a  really 
unhappy  woman  either  to  fully  rejoice  at  the  happiness  of 
a  more  fortunate  sister  or  to  fully  resent  it.  Naomi  caught 
pathetically  at  any  vicarious  piece  of  good  fortune,  and 
Victoria's  well-being  was  particularly  precious  to  her. 

"  Wait  a  moment,  please,  Littleport,"  she  said,  "  there 
may  be  some  new  order  about  the  car." 

The  old  man  murmured  "  very  well."  He  drew  back  and 
watched  her  solicitously. 


258  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Naomi  pulled  the  sheet  out  of  the  envelope.  She  glanced 
at  it  at  once,  and  then  let  it  drop. 

"  Not  more  bad  news,  my  Lady  ?  "  cried  out  uhe  old  man, 
as  he  saw  the  color  leave  her  face  and  a  kind  of  ashen  gray 
tint  come  up  on  it. 

"  Yes,"  she  answered  dully,  and  then  she  went  on  as  if 
the  mere  act  of  speaking  was  difficult — "  My  mother  is 
dead." 

Littleport  looked  at  her,  and  any  words  of  sympathy  he 
might  be  about  to  utter,  froze  on  his  lips.  There  was  some- 
thing so  stony  here  that  he  blurted  out  instead — "  Shall  I 
fetch  Sir  Roger,  my  Lady?  " 

Naomi  did  not  reply  for  a  moment.  She  twisted  the  pink 
form  into  a  tight  roll,  and  then  untwisted  it.  Within  the 
house  all  was  still,  only  through  the  doors  leading  to  the 
Chinese  Room  came  the  steady  tramping  of  Roger's  foot- 
falls. Something — perhaps  the  very  monotony  of  the  pacing 
—prompted  her.    She  looked  dully  at  Littleport. 

"  No,"  she  said,  "  don't  fetch  him,  I  will  go  to  him." 

Littleport  looked  at  her  again.  Lie  had  not  been  greatly 
impressed  by  Mrs.  Melsham  on  the  one  occasion  he  had  seen 
her,  but  now  he  was  inclined  to  think  she  must  have  been  a 
better  mother  than  he  would  have  supposed,  since  her  only 
daughter  seemed  pretty  well  stunned  at  hearing  the  news 
of  her  death. 

He  gave  Naomi  another  look  of  compassion  and  went  out. 
When  she  was  alone,  she  went  through  into  the  salon.  She 
walked  slowly,  uncertainly,  across  the  room.  Her  mother's 
death  was  a  blow,  but  it  was  not  grief  that  was  making 
her  falter,  it  was  another — a  new — uncertainty.  How  would 
this  news  affect  the  secret  she  was  carrying?  Would  it 
facilitate  discovery,  or  retard  it?  A  less  fundamentally 
honest  woman  than  Naomi  would  have  tried  to  conjure  up 
some  feeling  of  sorrow.  Naomi  had  lost  nothing,  and  she 
would  not  pretend  she  had. 

She  straightened  out  the  telegram  and  began  to  read  it 
again.  It  was  from  the  hotel  proprietor  and  was  cold,  not 
to  say  aggrieved,  for  there  is  nothing  the  management  of 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  259 

a  hotel  in  one  of  the  haunts  of  cosmopolitan  fashion  so 
keenly  resents  as  the  inopportune  arrival  of  death — and 
from  it  she  learned  that  Mrs.  Melsham  had  been  seized  with 
a  heart  attack  at  the  Casino.  She  died  before  she  could  be 
got  outside  the  building.  Her  body  was  lying  in  the  morgue 
and  the  authorities  demanded  the  presence  of  the  next  of 
kin  to  complete  all  the  legal  formalities. 

Naomi  had  just  come  to  the  end  of  that  dreary  message, 
set  down  more  as  an  ultimatum  than  as  a  piece  of  informa- 
tion, when  she  heard  the  sharp  ring  of  the  telephone  bell. 
Roger  sprang  to  it  at  once. 

"  Yes,  yes,"  she  heard  him  begin  excitedly,  "  who  is  it 
speaking?  " 

Then  came  a  pause. 

"  Not  at  home,"  she  heard  Roger  repeat  blankly.  "  Not 
sure  when  he  is  expected  ?  " 

Carson  was  away — that  one  fact  hammered  itself  into 
Naomi's  brain.  She  gave  a  long  gasp.  The  room  began  to 
whirl  before  her.  The  respite  meant  so  much  to  her  that 
for  a  moment  she  could  hardly  believe  that  it  could  be  true. 
But  the  next  moment  Roger  began  to  speak. 

He  must  get  into  touch  with  Mr.  Carson,  he  said,  it  was 
urgent, — it  was  imperative.  His  very  vehemence  seemed  to 
strike  Naomi  as  if  it  were  a  physical  force.  With  an  un- 
reasoning impulse,  driven  as  if  she  were  leaving  something 
fearful  behind  her,  she  hastened  out  of  the  salon  on  to  the 
terrace,  and  then,  almost  running,  down  the  steps  through 
the  walled  garden,  into  the  park. 

"  Mama  is  dead,"  she  repeated  to  herself,  as  if  that,  said 
often  enough,  should  drop  a  veil  over  the  doings  at  the  Villa 
Paul  et  Virginie. 

She  walked  quickly  along  over  the  rolling  stretch  of  green, 
and  as  she  went,  she  began  to  realize  that  the  closest  link 
with  her  own  personality  had  been  snapped.  "  I  ought  to 
cry,"  she  told  herself,  but  there  was  nothing  within  her 
which  would  grieve  at  the  death  of  a  mother.  She  had  not 
even  any  softening  childish  reminiscences  to  revive.  Until 
she  was  eighteen,  she  had  hardly  seen  her  mother  at  brief 


26o  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

intervals,  and  then  the  little  girl  looked  at  the  fashionable 
woman  who  occasionally  came  to  the  tiny  house  at  Lausanne, 
as  a  fresh  variety  of  school-mistress  who  concerned  herself 
with  questions  of  deportment  and  complexion,  instead  of 
with  sums  and  English  history. 

Naomi  walked  on  and  on  until  she  found  herself  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  park.  There  was  a  plank  laid  over  the 
surrounding  ditch  there,  and  a  woodman's  hand-gate  lead- 
ing into  what  was  known  locally  as  a  green  lane. 

Naomi  walked  across  the  plank.  She  could  not  go  back 
yet. 

As  Littleport  said,  Roger  must  know,  and  yet  she  shrank 
from  telling  him.  The  news  did  not  wholly  surprise  her. 
Mrs,  Melsham  had  been  threatened  more  than  once  with  a 
heart  attack.  She  had  been  warned  to  be  careful,  and 
responded  by  living  more  recklessly. 

Naomi  kept  on  her  way  down  the  lane.  It  came  out  close 
to  the  village,  but  just  before  it  ceased  to  be  a  grass  track 
and  took  on  the  dignity  of  a  properly  made  road,  two  little 
white  cottages  stood  out  to  catch  the  eye  of  the  sun. 

Amabelle  de  la  Haye  had  built  them.  Each  one  was 
endowed  with  a  little  income.  Each  one  was  inhabited  by 
an  old  woman  who  had  been  born  in  the  village,  and  had 
passed  the  whole  of  her  life  there. 

Naomi  Iteft  alone,  would  have  passed  by  silently.  She 
did  her  duty  by  the  village  as  far  as  she  was  able,  but  she 
had  not  yet  come  to  the  point  of  doing  it  easily.  Her 
mother-in-law,  when  she  was  at  Zouche,  never  thought  of 
passing  by  a  single  cottage  without  a  friendly  word. 

But  now  there  was  a  bent  old  form  standing  by  the  little 
gate,  waiting  for  her. 

"  Step  in  a  moment,  my  Lady — do,  love,"  suggested 
Grannie  Sharp. 

Naomi  smiled  one  of  those  rare  smiles  which  warmed  her 
whole  face.  She  was  cheered  to  think  that  this  old  woman 
wished  for  her  company. 

She  pushed  open  the  gate — waited  for  Grannie  to  hobble 
back  into  her  kitchen,  and  sat  down  on  the  chair  assigned 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  261 

to  her.  Naomi  began  with  a  cautious  inquiry  about  the  old 
woman's  heahh.  Mrs.  Sharp  suffered  from  an  internal  com- 
plaint— "  My  little  old  muck  of  a  trouble,"  as  she  called  it, 
and  she  dealt  faithfully  with  the  details  of  it.  But  when  in 
the  midst  of  a  description  as  plain-spoken  as  it  was  voluble, 
she  suddenly  broke  off,  and  leaning  forward,  put  her 
knotted  old  hand  on  Naomi's  shoulder. 

"  Why,  my  dear,"  she  said,  "  you  look  almighty  bad  your- 
self. Don't  take  on  so,  my  Lady.  It's  mortal  bad  to  bear, 
but  I  have  been  through  it  myself.  It  always  took  me  here," 
and  she  patted  her  lean  bosom.  "  I  knows  what  you  feels 
like.  Cold  shoulder  ain't  easy  to  put  up  with  whether  it's 
turned  on  gentle  or  simple." 

"  My  mother's  dead,"  faltered  Naomi,  "  I've  just  heard." 

"  That,  too,"  cried  out  Mrs.  Sharp.  She  reached  out  for 
her  stick  and  turned  sharply  on  it.  "  Go  back  home,  love," 
she  advised,  *'  and  see  to  your  black.  The  Lord  made 
mourning  to  give  women  something  to  think  of,  for  fear 
if  they  hadn't  it  to  keep  their  mind  busy  they  would  break 
their  little  old  varmints  of  hearts." 

Naomi  rose.  "  I'll  take  your  advice,  Mrs.  Sharp,"  she 
said.  Once  out  of  the  door  some  memory  of  the  old 
woman's  story  came  back  to  her. 

Roger  must  have  told  her.  It  was  long  ago — perhaps  as 
much  as  fifteen  years  ago — that  young  Ted  Sharp,  the  old 
woman's  grandson,  employed  as  an  errand  boy  in  the  vil- 
lage shop,  was  caught  helping  himself  from  the  till. 

No  prosecution  followed — Amabelle  saw  to  that.  Ted 
was  given  another  chance  in  Canada,  but  his  grandmother 
drank  her  cup  of  shame  to  the  last  drop.  She  remembered 
that  now,  and  remembered  sympathetically  how  bitter  it 
had  been. 

But  what  concerned  Naomi  was  not  sympathy,  but  the 
point  of  view.  She  had  been  told  in  so  many  words  that 
there  were  people  who  pitied  her  at  Roger's  expense — pitied 
her — and  she  was  guilty — at  the  expense  of  Roger  who  was 
innocent.  She  had  just  arrived  as  far  as  that  when  she  saw 
Roger  himself  hastening  to  her. 


262  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

'*  Naomi,"  he  began,  "  I  have  been  looking  everywhere 
for  )'ou.    Littleport  has  told  me." 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  for  she  saw  by  his  face  what  the  old 
man-servant  had  said  to  him. 

Roger  slipped  his  arm  within  hers, 

"  My  dear,"  he  began,  "  what  a  brute  I  am.  I've  been 
thinking  only  of  myself,  and  here  you  have  been  facing  this 
blow  all  alone.    Tell  me  exactly  what  has  happened." 

Very  briefly,  in  difficult  broken  phrases,  Naomi  told  him. 

"  Someone  must  go  to  Aix  at  once,"  she  ended.  "  I 
should  like  to  go  myself." 

"  We  will  go  together,"  he  answered.  "  We  can  start 
early  tomorrow — as  early  as  you  please,  it  is  not  too  late 
tonight — we  might  get  to  London  tonight — and  then,  of 
course,  there's  the  midnight  train.  I'll  telephone  to  Paul 
as  soon  as  I  get  in." 

His  solicitude  did  what  no  trouble  had  been  able  to  do — 
it  broke  her  calm.  She  buried  her  head  on  his  shoulder  and 
broke  into  a  passion  of  tears. 

Roger  held  her  silently.  He  thought  a  certain  relief 
would  follow,  and  at  last,  when  she  was  quiet  again,  he 
gently  persuaded  her  back  to  Zouche.  But  as  she  went, 
already  a  new  difficulty  was  presenting  itself.  She  knew 
but  the  barest  outline  of  her  mother's  end — would  there  be 
anything  to  conceal  about  it?  A  kind  of  fear  took  posses- 
sion of  her,  a  dread,  which  was  partly  a  trick  of  overtaxed 
nerves,  partly  the  certainty  that  Mrs.  Melsham,  left  without 
the  restraining  influence  of  her  daughter,  might  have  been 
making  up  for  lost  time,  as  slie  would  have  expressed  it 
herself. 

Anyway,  Naomi  knew  that  she  wanted  to  go  to  Aix  by 
herself — that  her  one  endeavor  would  be  to  get  there  with- 
out Roger. 


CHAPTER  XX 

Paul  let  himself  into  the  quiet  hall  of  his  own  house,  and 
just  looked  up  the  stately  staircase. 

He  meant  to  go  up  to  the  drawing-room  and  see  if  his 
wife  was  there,  for  to  get  to  Victoria  was  always  the  first 
thought  of  his  homecoming,  and  yet  he  paused  because  he 
had  never  lost  the  sense  of  Victoria's  presence  at  the  bend 
of  the  stairs  or  forgotten  the  future  his  imagination  once 
pictured  to  him  there.  But  before  he  could  do  more  than 
glance  upwards,  Samuel  came  up  to  him. 

"  I  have  been  watching  for  you,  Sir,"  he  began,  "  Monsieur 
de  Rochecorbon  is  here,  he's  in  the  library." 

"  De  Rochecorbon?"  exclaimed  Paul.  "Why,  hasn't  he 
started  for  Pekin  yet  ?  " 

"  I  think  he  wants  to  see  you  particularly.  Sir.  He 
wouldn't  go  upstairs ;  he  said  he'd  wait  until  you  came  in." 

Paul  turned  at  once.  Samuel  evidently  thought  that 
Armand  had  come  for  more  than  a  friendly  chat,  and 
Samuel  was  a  man  of  perception. 

"  What  can  it  be  ?  "  Paul  asked  himself,  as  he  pushed  open 
the  white  door  of  his  own  particular  room. 

It  was,  perhaps,  illustrative  of  one  aspect  of  the  man  that 
the  dominant  note  in  this  room  should  be  white,  it  was 
still  more  illustrative  to  those  who  would  penetrate  deep 
down  into  Paul's  being  that  before  a  portrait  of  Victoria 
there  should  always  be  a  bunch  of  red  roses. 

When  Paul  entered,  Armand  was  contemplating  these 
very  red  roses  with  the  tolerant  smile  of  the  practical  Gaul 
for  the  sentimental  Anglo-Saxon. 

"  You  ought  to  be  a  lover,  mon  cher,  not  a  husband,"  the 
little  man  began  as  he  shook  hands  with  his  host. 

"  Not  at  all,"  retorted  Paul,  "  the  lover  only  stands  within 
the  vestibule,  the  husband  worships  at  the  shrine  itself.    All 

263 


2^4  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

men  make  offerings  when  they  go  to  the  temple,  or  the  gods 
veil  their  faces  and  are  angry.  Besides — what  so  appro- 
priate as  a  rose — and  a  red  rose?  A  rose  in  itself  is  the 
symbol  of  beauty — a  red  rose,  of  love  for  that  beauty." 

"  Mai  foi,"  scoffed  the  Frenchman,  "  all  this  fantasy  in 
spite  of  being  a  money-grubber." 

"  Or  because  I  am  one,"  contradicted  Paul.  "  Finance," 
he  went  on,  with  a  happy  little  laugh,  "  needs  imagination. 
Imagination  means  seeing  a  little  more  than  other  people, 
and  clear  sight  points  out  that,  when  all  is  said  and  done, 
it  is  the  heart,  not  the  hand,  which  rules  this  world." 

For  one  moment  a  look — the  look  of  those  who  perceive 
the  Promised  Land  and  may  never  enter  it — came  into 
Armand's  face.  The  next  moment  he  shrugged  his  shoul- 
ders ;  had  he  not  his  motor  car,  and  for  the  most  part  his 
freedom?  The  rather  featureless  wife  his  family  and  hers 
had  chosen  for  him,  and  to  whom  he  was  always  scrupu- 
lously polite,  would  never  prompt  him  to  put  roses  before 
her  picture — but,  at  least,  she  was  a  splendid  mother — and 
for  the  rest,  he  had  had  his  dream. 

''  Voyons,"  he  began,  as  if  he  were  glad  to  change  the 
conversation,  "  I  wait  especially  for  you." 

"For  me?"  answered  Paul.  "What  is  it — has  the  trip 
to  Pekin  gone  wrong?  " 

"  No,"  said  Armand,  "  there  were  a  few  difficulties,  but 
they  have  all  been  adjusted.  I  made  the  crossing  yesterday 
and  would  like  very  much  to  have  one  final  word  with 
Roger  if  I  could  see  him." 

"  He  is  at  Zouche,"  Paul  explained. 

"  So  the  thing  I  came  for  especially  was  to  see  if  I 
couldn't  get  at  old  Chi  Lung,"  wound  up  Armand,  after 
he  had  put  a  few  questions  relative  to  Roger  and  heard 
Paul's  answer.  "  I  find  that  there  are  all  kinds  of  formalities 
when  one  gets  well  away  from  Pekin,  and  that  when  the 
powers  that  be  don't  fancy  the  look  of  a  stranger,  if  he 
does  not  possess  a  permit,  they  lock  him  up  in  a  cage  until 
some  lazy  old  mandarin  makes  up  his  mind  whether  the  rest- 
cure  is  to  go  on  indefinitely  or  no.    That  is  not  an  idea  qui 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  265 

une  sunte  aux  jeux  and  as  his  Excellency  can  level  all  the 
rough  places,  and  make  all  things  Celestial  smooth  if  he 
will,  I  came  to  town  especially  to  see  him." 
"  He  is  away !  "  Paul  answered. 
"  How  do  you  know  that  ?  "  asked  Armand  sharply. 
"  Because  I  wanted  to  see  him  tomorrow  myself,"  Paul 
said.     "  I  wrote  to  Portarlington  Square  and  asked  for  an 
interview  on  urgent  business — and  I  heard  by  return  that  the 
old  man  wouldn't  be  back  this  week." 

"  I  heard  the  same  when  I  called  on  him  myself,  an  hour 
ago,"  Armand  answered,  "  that  is  why  I  came  on  here  as 
quickly  as  I  could." 

"  Came  on  here?"  repeated  Paul,  for  he  saw  there  was 
something  more  behind,  "  as  quickly  as  you  could — what  do 
you  mean  ?  " 

"  This,"  said  the  little  Frenchman,  and  for  once  he  was 
not  the  mercurial  individual  of  ordinary  occasions,  but  an 
astute  man  of  the  world,  putting  several  trifles  together  to 
make  one  important  whole,  "  that  you  said  the  last  time 
when  you  and  I  talked  together,  that  the  ways  of  le  cher 
Chi  Lung  troubled  you." 

"  Yes,"  said  Paul,  "  you  mean  about  the  Chinese  memo- 
randum. He  has  always  seemed  to  draw  back,  rather  than 
to  hasten,  to  help  Roger." 

"  I  have  had  such  thoughts  myself,"  Armand  went  on. 
"  The  Celestial  moves  by  devious  ways,  it  is  well  always  to 
remember  that.  I  remembered  that,  and  so  I  came  here." 
He  waited  a  moment  and  looked  up  at  Paul.  The  big 
man  had  hardly  said  a  word.  He  had  not  put  a  single  ques- 
tion as  to  what  had  happened  when  Armand  called  at  Chi 
Lung's  house.  It  was  inconvenient  to  one  who  loved  a 
dramatic  flourish,  as  De  Rochecorbon  did,  but  the  more 
things  looked  as  if  they  might  grow  serious,  the  fewer, 
always,  became  Paul's  words. 

"  Eh  hien,"  continued  Armand,  when  he  saw  that  if  a  cres- 
cendo there  were  to  be,  he  must  mount  to  it  all  by  himself, 
"  as  I  tell  you  I  presented  myself  at  his  Excellency's  house, 
and  I  heard  the  same  fairy  story  about  not  being  at  home." 


266  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Fairy  story !    How  do  you  know  that?  "  Paul  asked. 

"  Because  with  my  own  two  eyes  I  see  the  Marquis  Chi 
Lung  drive  up  in  a  taxi." 

"  The  old  man  himself,"  Paul  exclaimed  incredulously. 

"  Himself  and  no  other,"  Armand  affirmed. 

"  Are  you  sure  ?  "  Paul  went  on. 

"  Sure,"  repeated  Armand,  "  as  certain  as  I  am  here." 

"  You  think  he  denied  himself  purposely,  first  to  me  and 
then  to  you?"  Paul  asked.  "Why  should  he  do  that? 
Is  there  any  connection  between  the  two  denials,  or  is  it 
just  a  mere  coincidence  and  the  old  man  didn't  want  to  be 
bothered  to  receive  any  foreign  barbarians  at  all  ?  " 

"  Do  you  think  that  Chi  Lung  ever  forgets  we  are  both 
Roger's  friends?"  Armand  answered. 

"  Then  you  would  put  it  down  to  a  further  development 
of  procrastination?"  said  Paul. 

"  Precisely." 

"  Phew,"  whistled  Marketel,  "  that  means,  if  you  are 
right,  that  he  is  not  working  to  help  us,  but  to  hinder 
us." 

"  Parfaitement,"  declared  the  little   Frenchman. 

Paul  reflected  a  moment.  On  the  one  hand  was  the  old 
Chinaman's  silence,  his  withdrawal;  on  the  other  was  his 
affection  for  Roger,  his  veneration  for  Roger's  father.  Paul 
had  a  long  experience  of  the  world  and  so  he  was  loath  to 
impute  the  less  estimable  motive.  It  is  only  the  narrow 
who  for  ever  hurry  to  put  the  worst  construction  on  a 
circumstance:  those  who  live  the  larger  life,  and  live  that 
life  generously,  are  always  ready  to  give  the  benefit  of  the 
doubt  because  they  know  that  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten  there 
is  no  doubt  at  all,  only  a  shadow  which  might  be  mistaken 
for  one. 

Paul  applied  this  observation  now.  He  came  back  to  a 
point  he  had  made  before. 

"  The  old  man  might  really  be  seeing  no  one,"  he 
reiterated. 

"  Not  at  all,"  contradicted  Armand.  "  Voyons,  nwn 
cher,"  he  went  on,   "  why   can  his   Excellency   receive  a 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  267 

scoundrel  when  he  hasn't  time  for  an  honest  man?  I  saw 
with  my  own  eyes.  Directly  after  his  Excellency's  taxi  fol- 
lowed another  one  with  old  Fu  Yang  in  it,  and  beside  old 
yellow  face  was  seated — who  do  you  think?  " 

"  How  should  I  know?"  Paul  asked. 

"  Mon  cher,"  went  on  Armand,  "  it  was — ma  parole 
d'honnciir,  it  was — that  espece  de  chien,  Hermann  Strum." 

"  Hermann  Strum,"  exclaimed  Paul.  He  looked  at 
Armand  and  repeated  the  name.  The  little  Frenchman 
nodded.  He  was  delighted  that  at  last  his  information 
should  have  disturbed  Paul's  serenity.  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  it 
was  he — I  know  him  again." 

"  Then,"  said  Paul  quickly,  "  you  have  seen  this  fellow 
Strum  before." 

"  Yes,  I  met  myself  with  him  once — in  society." 

"In  society?"  repeated  Paul,  "but  the  fellow  is  a  low 
blackguard.    Where  did  you  see  him?" 

"  At  Nice,"  answered  Armand,  "  in  the  'ouse  of  a  lady. 
It  was  evident  he  came  under  false  pretenses." 

"  How  long  ago  ?  " 

"  Three — no,  four  years  ago." 

"What  happened?" 

"  There  was  a  scene — he  tried  to  blackmail  a  woman." 

"  What  woman  ?  "  Paul  asked. 

Armand  turned  with  an  expressive  gesture.  "  Why,  of 
course,"  he  began,  and  then  he  stepped  back,  he  shut  his 
lips  tight  and  dropped  his  eyes.  He  had  been  going  to  say — 
"  Why,  of  course,  Mrs.  Melsham,"  and  had  just  recollected 
in  time  that  he  had  given  Naomi  his  word  never  to  mention 
that  episode  at  the  Villa  Paul  et  Virginie.  "  Pardon !  Je 
regrette,  I  cannot  tell  you,"  he  went  on.  "  This  blackguard 
was — how  do  you  say  it  ? — a  card  sharper.  He  was  there  only 
till  he  was  found  out.  It  is  not  for  me  to  blacken  cette 
dame  by  speaking  of  her  in  such  a  connection.  I  gave  my 
word  to  the  lady  never  to  mention  her  name  with  the 
episode." 

Paul  nodded.  A  word  given  must  be  a  promise  respected. 
He  tried  another  trick. 


268  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Will  it  surprise  you  to  hear,"  he  said,  "  that  this  Her- 
mann Strum  was  the  thief  who  sold  the  Chinese  memo- 
randum to  the  Olympic?  "  Paul  answered. 

The  effect  on  Armand  was  electrical. 

"He  sold  it — this  Strum?"  the  little  man  gasped,  "and 
I  see  him  myself  driving  up  to  the  door  of  our  Chi  Lung. 
I  saw  his  Excellency  look  out  to  make  sure  that  he 
arrives." 

Armand  took  a  quick  turn  down  the  room. 

"  The  plot  thickens,  mon  cher,"  he  began  excitedly,  and 
perhaps  his  instinct  for  piecing  facts  together  might  have 
led  him  very  near  to  the  truth,  but  that  at  that  very  moment 
Victoria  entered  precipitately. 

"  Paul,"  she  began,  and  even  when  she  saw  Armand,  she 
hardly  paused  to  greet  him,  "  Roger  has  just  rung  up.  They 
are  in  trouble  again.  Mrs.  Melsham  is  dead — she  died  sud- 
denly at  Aix, — Roger  and  Naomi  are  coming  to  town  to- 
night." 

Paul  gave  vent  to  an  exclamation  of  dismay.  Armand  did 
a  curious  thing — he  made  a  quick  movement  as  if  he  were 
wiping  out  something — and  then,  after  the  three  of  them 
had  talked  a  little  longer  about  Roger,  and  he  had  heard 
something  about  the  admiration  that  both  Paul  and  Victoria 
felt  for  Naomi,  Armand  rose  to  go.  He  made  his  fare- 
wells and  decided  that  in  the  matter  of  local  introductions 
a  letter  to  the  British  and  French  Ministers  at  Pekin  asking 
them  to  obtain  certain  permits  there,  was  at  least  a  good 
second  best  to  Chi  Lung's  personal  introduction.  The  little 
man  bowed  himself  out  of  the  room  and  out  of  the  house. 
He  was  glad  he  hadn't  mentioned  Mrs.  Melsham's  name, 
just  because  she  was  dead,  and  the  generous  are  silent  when 
they  cannot  speak  well  of  those  who  are  gone.  But  no 
thought  of  Mrs.  Melsham  in  connection  with  the  theft  ever 
came  into  his  mind ;  indeed,  it  was  established  later  that  he 
did  not  so  much  as  know  of  her  call  at  Zouche.  Armand 
had  rushed  off  to  the  smoke  room  to  write  to  his  wife  about 
the  baby  and  his  wonderful  tooth,  and  neither  Naomi  nor 
Lady  de  la  Haye  had  felt  inclined  to  enlarge  on  the  visit. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  269 

But  as  soon  as  Armand  had  gone,  and  as  soon  as  Paul  had 
ascertained  that  Roger  and  Naomi  were  coming  by  train,  not 
by  motor,  Marketel  turned  to  his  wife — "  It's  five  o'clock 
now,"  he  said,  "  Roger  does  not  arrive  until  eight- 
thirty." 

Victoria  turned  to  her  husband  with  a  smile.  "  You  mean 
you  are  going  to  try  to  see  old  Chi  Lung,"  she  said. 

"  I  mean,"  answered  Marketel,  "  that  I  intend  to  see  him. 
If  they  tell  me  that  he  is  not  at  home,  I  shall  insist  on 
going  in  and  waiting  until  he  sees  fit  to  say  that  he  has 
returned.  The  process  may  take  time,  but  if  I  wait  until 
midnight  I'll  have  this  Strum  business  out  with  Chi 
Lung." 

"  It  is  all  very  strange,"  said  Victoria  slowly. 

"  It's  more  than  strange.  The  old  man  is  playing  a  deep 
game — what  game?  that  is  what  I  intend  to  find  out."  He 
walked  to  the  door,  paused  there,  and  looked  back  at  his 
wife. 

"If  I'm  not  back  in  time,  you'll  go  to  the  train,  won't  you, 
dear  ?    And  tell  Roger  what  is  delaying  me  ?  " 

Victoria  answered  readily  and  Paul  set  off  to  Portarling- 
ton  Square  in  a  passing  taxi — he  wouldn't  even  wait  for  his 
own  car. 

Paul  devoted  the  few  minutes  occupied  by  the  drive  to 
thinking  over  the  situation.  Three  points  were  clear.  The 
Chinese  memorandum  had  been  copied  at  Zouche,  it  had 
been  sold  to  the  Olympic  by  Hermann  Strum,  and  lastly, 
there  evidently  must  be  some  form  of  communication  be- 
tween Chi  Lung  and  Strum.  Paul  fastened  on  this.  Pie 
was  asking  himself  what  connection  there  could  be,  and  then 
a  thought  came  into  his  mind,  an  idea  which  was  often  to 
come  back  to  him  during  the  next  few  weeks.  Had  Strum 
a  hold  over  his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung?  Had  he 
been  able  to  put  some  pressure  on  the  special  envoy  from 
China  (Paul  knew  that  Chi  Lung's  career  had  not  been  with- 
out its  vicissitudes — twice  he  had  been  disgraced,  and  twice 
reinstated)  and  had  Strum  thus  obtained  a  sight  oT  the 
Chinese  memorandum?    Then,  suddenly,  he  let  down  the 


270  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

window  and  told  the  taxi  man  to  pull  up.  It  had  occurred 
to  him  that  it  was  inadvisable  to  herald  his  coming  and  so 
he  entered  the  Square  on  foot.  It  was  long  and  narrow. 
A  strip  of  grass  and  the  regulation  shrubs  took  up  the 
center  space ;  at  the  far  end,  stretching  across  the  head  of 
the  Square,  the  houses  were  the  largest,  and  the  one  in  the 
very  middle  was  the  residence  of  the  special  envoy  from 
China. 

He  had  taken  it  over  just  as  it  was,  and  as  Paul  walked 
towards  it  he  was  wondering  what  the  Celestials,  with  their 
love  of  the  primary  colors,  would  think  of  the  dingy  shade 
of  chocolate  with  which  its  front  was  painted — when  he  saw 
the  door  open. 

Chi  Lung's  secretary  came  out  on  to  the  steps  and  behind 
him  followed  a  big,  fat,  loose-limbed  individual. 

"  Hermann  Strum  departing,"  said  Paul  to  himself. 

He  could  see  that  the  Chinaman  was  behaving  with 
studied  incivility,  he  waited  until  the  secretary  shut  the  door, 
then  arranged  his  pace  so  that  Strum — he  was  sure  it  was 
Strum — and  he  must  cross  each  other. 

The  big  man  came  along  uncertainly — furtively.  Had 
the  Square  not  ended  in  a  cul-de-sac  it  looked  as  if  he  would 
have  taken  any  turning  rather  than  face  so  much  as  one 
fellow  wayfarer.  As  it  was,  there  was  nothing  for  it  but 
to  keep  on,  unless  he  turned  directly  about,  and  a  man  of 
doubtful  character  rarely  ventures  to  do  that.  To  turn  one's 
back  without  a  qualm  means  a  clean  record,  otherwise  it 
might  occur  to  some  onlooker  to  cry  "  Stop  thief,"  and  a 
policeman  on  the  scene  implies  an  investigation  into  ante- 
cedents. 

Therefore,  this  loose-limbed,  fleshy  man  decided  that  he 
must  face  Paul  Marketel,  even  when  his  perfect  memory 
for  a  face  once  seen  assured  him  that  it  was  the  well- 
known  financier.  When  they  were  all  but  abreast,  Paul 
swerved,  so  that  for  an  instant  they  directly  faced  each 
other.  The  meeting  lasted  but  a  matter  of  seconds  but  it 
gave  Marketel  time  to  see  that  Strum  was  only  keeping  con- 
trol of  himself  by  a  strong  effort  of  will. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  271 

"  Whatever  took  place  in  there,  hasn't  been  over  pleasant 
for  you,  my  friend,"  he  thought. 

The  next  moment  he  decided  that  "  pleasant  "  was  too 
mild  a  term  altogether. 

"  You  are  absolutely  piebald,  Strum,"  he  said  grimly  to 
himself.  "  I  wonder  what  screw  his  Excellency  has  been 
turning." 

Strum  called  himself  by  a  German  name  and  claimed  the 
Fatherland  for  his  birthplace,  but  there  was  evidently  a 
mixed  stream  in  him — a  half-caste  always  goes  white  all 
over  when  he  is  angry — white  in  streaks  and  patches  when 
terrified — Paul  knew  this. 

He  rang  the  bell  sharply  and  anticipated  the  English  man- 
servant by  saying  that  he  knew  his  Excellency  was  within, 
and  that  he  did  not  mean  to  leave  until  he  had  seen  the 
Marquis  Chi  Lung  himself. 

"  Will  you  step  in  here.  Sir?  "  said  the  man,  neither  deny- 
ing nor  affirming,  as  he  opened  the  door  of  one  of  the  ante- 
rooms. But  Paul  was  not  going  to  be  side-tracked  into  any 
back-parlor  as  he  called  it. 

"  I  will  stay  here,"  he  returned,  and  his  glance  intimated 
that  he  could  thus  keep  most  of  the  doors  and  the  staircase 
in  view. 

"  Very  good.  Sir,"  said  the  man-servant,  who  evidently 
knew  when  to  argue  and  when  to  refrain. 

Paul,  standing  up  very  straight,  very  stiff,  watched  him 
go  through  the  folding  doors  at  the  back  of  the  house. 
Marketel  was  pretty  confident  that  though  he  might  be  kept 
waiting,  he  would  see  Chi  Lung  in  the  end. 

It  is  the  Celestial  habit  to  meet  resolution  with  a  con- 
cession more  apparent  than  real,  so,  remembering  that,  Paul 
felt  that  his  difficulties  would  be  by  no  means  over  even  if 
he  did  reach  his  Excellency's  presence.  None  the  less  it 
was  a  surprise  when  he  suddenly  saw  the  old  man  in 
person  coming  towards  him. 

Paul  put  his  hands  together,  and  inclined  his  body  in  the 
correct  Oriental  fashion.  Chi  Lung  did  the  same.  Then 
the  slanting  eyes  looked  up  ironically. 


272  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Oh,  Man  of  Money,"  the  old  Chinaman  began,  "  is  it  to 
guard  treasure  so  grown  into  your  bones  that  you  must 
needs  play  watch-dog  on  my  doorstep?  " 

"  It  is  not  to  guard  your  Excellency,"  Paul  retorted 
bluntly,  "  it  was  to  circumvent  a  second  evasion." 

"  There  are  times  and  seasons  for  deaths  as  well  as 
births,"  retorted  Chi  Lung. 

He  led  the  way  down  the  hall  and  then  opened  the  door 
into  what  had  been  the  dining-room.  It  was  hung  now  with 
crimson  curtains — crimson  is  the  Chinese  color  for  good 
fortune — otherwise  the  room  was  bare  of  furniture  save  for 
a  couch  of  Empire  design  and  a  round  table,  but  the  folding 
doors  were  half  open  and  they  gave  a  glimpse  of  a  back 
room,  draped  in  the  same  way,  but  rendered  homelike — that 
is,  homelike  from  a  Celestial  point  of  view — by  a  big 
Chinese  stand,  with  sheets  of  red  paper,  little  slabs  of  India 
ink,  and  other  Oriental  writing  materials  on  it,  and  by  little 
squat  cushions  tucked  against  the  wainscoting  all  round  the 
walls. 

His  Excellency  shut  the  communicating  doors  with  so 
decisive  a  bang  that  he  seemed  to  be  thrusting  out  any  possi- 
bility of  an  intimate  conversation  between  himself  and  this 
big  masterful  Englishman. 

"  Be  seated.  Honorable  Guest,"  Chi  Lung  began,  and  he 
waved  his  hand  to  the  sofa,  placed — as  Paul  did  not  fail 
to  remark — so  that  the  light  from  the  two  windows  must 
fall  on  anyone  occupying  it. 

"  But,  your  Excellency,  won't  you  take  the  sofa  your- 
self ?  "  Paul  objected. 

"  You  think  these  aged  limbs  tremble  already  ?  "  Chi  Lung 
returned.  "  Truly,  they  are  but  shrunken  skins  covering 
weary  bones,  but  they  will  still  bear  the  weight  of  this 
declining  frame." 

Paul  could  only  bow.  The  Celestial  had  out-manoeuvered 
him — to  protest  further  would  be  to  indorse  the  suggestion 
of  decrepitude.  So  he  had  to  take  the  sofa  and  thereby 
expose  his  face  to  the  light,  while  Chi  Lung  carefully  backed 
into  the  shadow.    There  followed  a  silence.    The  old  China- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  273 

man  stood  with  his  chin  almost  on  his  chest,  his  hands 
tucked  each  into  the  opposite  sleeve.  He  neither  looked  up 
nor  moved,  and  it  came  to  Marketel  that  if  anyone  were  to 
speak — he  must  begin — Chi  Lung  never  would.  Let  alone 
the  innate  partiality  of  the  East  for  silence,  the  axiom  that 
the  wise  let  the  adversary  speak  first  in  order  to  learn  from 
his  own  mouth  how  to  answer  him  to  his  disadvantage,  is 
nowhere  better  understood  than  in  the  land  of  the  Blue 
Gown.  Besides,  Chi  Lung  was  in  the  strong  position  of 
knowing — Paul  in  the  weak  one  of  wanting  to  know. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  said  Paul  at  length,  "  I  am  not  going 
to  begin  by  complaining  of  the  evasion  to  which  your  secre- 
tary treated  me." 

"  He  but  obeyed  the  words  of  my  mouth,"  the  old  man 
returned  loftily. 

"  But  I  am  going  to  begin,"  Paul  went  on  steadily,  for  he 
was  not  to  be  turned  from  his  purpose  by  any  bland  admis- 
sion, "  by  telling  you  that  I  know  that  Hermann  Strum  has 
been  here — that  I  am  pretty  sure  that  I  saw  him  come  out 
of  your  door  just  now." 

"  Your  reasoning  is  good,"  was  Chi  Lung's  unexpected 
answer.  "  You  looked  on  the  man's  face — tell  me,  what  did 
the  form  of  it  say  to  you?  " 

"  The  man  looked  a  thorough  blackguard." 

Chi  Lung  came  a  step  nearer  and  bowed. 

"  Oh,  Man  of  Money,"  he  said,  and  Paul  could  not  be  sure 
whether  he  spoke  in  earnest  or  in  irony,  "  I  rejoice.  Your 
far-sweeping  mind  confirms  the  judgment  of  my  own  wits. 
To  me  he  has  a  face  as  evil  as  that  of  a  pirate  from 
Formosa." 

"  There  wasn't  much  of  the  truculent  pirate  about  him," 
Paul  answered.  "  When  he  passed  me,  he  looked  about  as 
frightened  as  a  man  could  do." 

"  There  are  other  ways  of  making  a  man  feel  the  weight 
of  a  stone  than  by  dropping  it  on  his  toes,"  his  Excellency 
retorted,  and  regardless  of  Paul's  presence,  he  gave  way  to 
a  prolonged  chuckle,  and  then  permitted  himself  to  take 
snuff  liberally. 


274  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Paul  began  to  think  that  whatever  the  habitual  relations 
between  Strum  and  the  old  man  might  be,  the  Chinaman 
had  at  least  been  the  master  on  this  occasion,  but  he  never 
guessed  that  the  old  Celestial,  with  those  wonderful  under- 
ground ways  of  gaining  information  which  are  developed  to 
a  fine  point  by  those  of  his  race,  had  his  finger  on  the  key 
to  one  of  those  international  mysteries  which  are  hushed 
up  precisely  because  they  are  so  significant.  The  undoing 
of  Marie  Antoinette,  whether  she  was  innocent  or  guilty, 
was  connected  with  a  pearl  necklace.  There  had  lately  been 
a  modern  equivalent,  known  to  the  secret  police  of  two 
great  empires  as  the  theft  of  the  Princess  Goeristadt's 
diamonds.  The  case  had  a  lady  in  it  of  course,  and  a  near 
relative  of  a  crowned  head.  There  was  also  a  more  humble 
individual  who  played  the  part  of  a  go-between  and,  when 
the  moment  seemed  propitious,  endeavored  to  extort  large 
sums  by  way  of  blackmail.  But  the  tool  had  reckoned  with- 
out a  certain  German  organization  which,  though  it  was 
installed  in  a  single  house  in  a  quiet  by-street,  had  tentacles 
as  long  as  the  strands  of  a  spider's  web.  A  careful  bait 
lured  him  out  of  Germany,  and,  once  in  Russia,  he  was 
pounced  upon,  tried  on  a  manufactured  charge  under  care- 
fully manipulated  conditions,  and  sentenced  to  lifelong  im- 
prisonment in  a  certain  snowbound  fortress.  Eventually  he 
escaped,  and  perhaps  he  was  so  infatuated  by  his  own  clever- 
ness in  getting  free  that  he  was  foolish  enough  to  think  he 
had  covered  up  his  tracks  and  might  return  to  his  old  trade. 
But  he  forgot  one  particular  enemy,  and  the  one  individual 
left  out  of  a  serious  calculation  is  apt  to  be  the  one  person 
who  counts. 

When  Chi  Lung  was  sent  to  Europe  on  his  first  mission, 
he  had  never  been  out  of  his  own  country  before,  and  as 
soon  as  he  reached  Berlin  a  certain  big  burly  nab,  with 
loose  fimb  and  pale  eyes,  was  introduced  to  him,  nominally 
to  serve  as  his  European  secretary,  really,  as  a  species  of 
bear-leader  on  ceremonious  occasions. 

Strum — less  fat  in  those  days — was  masquerading  as  a 
cavalry  officer,  and  expected  to  exploit  the  Celestial  under 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  275 

the  pretense  of  helping  him,  and  when  he  saw  that  it  wasn't 
as  easy  as  he  supposed,  endeavored  to  impHcate  the  Chinese 
envoy  in  what  might  have  turned  out  to  be  a  most  damaging 
business.  Chi  Lung  extricated  himself — and  never  forgot. 
If  it  had  been  necessary  to  expend  his  last  penny  he  would 
have  done  it  to  keep  his  enemy  in  sight.  When  the  Goeri- 
stadt  diamonds  affair  was  whispered  about  discreetly  he 
could  have  proclaimed  the  identity  of  the  go-between,  yet 
it  was  characteristic  of  the  Celestial  that  though  he  had 
waited  a  dozen  years  for  his  opportunity,  he  was  satisfied 
that  a  Russian  fortress  would  see  to  his  revenge  better  than 
he  could  see  to  it  himself.  Then  came  the  evasion,  after 
something  like  five  years  of  imprisonment,  and  Chi  Lung 
knew  that  Strum  had  got  out  of  Russia  before  it  was  known 
to  anyone  but  the  officials  concerned. 

Such  criminals  always  make  for  London. 

When  Chi  Lung  returned  from  Zouche,  he  heard  that  not 
only  was  his  enemy  in  England,  but  that  he  had  suddenly 
become  possessed  of  money,  and  that  he  had  been  seen 
visiting  the  offices  of  the  Olympic  Press  Agency.  A  less 
astute  man  than  the  Marquis  would  have  denounced  the 
international  blackmailer  at  once — the  old  Chinaman  played 
a  cat  and  mouse  game.  Though  Paul  never  knew  it,  it  was 
thanks  to  one  of  his  arrangements  that  Marketel  got  on  the 
tracks  of  Strum  and  his  Olympic  business.  It  was  equally 
like  him  and  his  methods  that  instead  of  trying  to  find  out 
what  Paul  had  discovered,  he  waited  to  be  told,  and  there- 
fore declared  that  he  was  out  of  town.  The  information 
came  in  a  letter  from  Roger  himself — a  verbatim  copy  of 
what  Roger  had  heard  from  Paul,  and  the  old  man  had 
received  it  that  very  morning.  He  did  not  lose  a  minute — 
he  sent  for  Strum,  and  made  it  plain  that  if  the  blackmailer 
delayed  his  confession  for  even  an  hour  he  would  put  the 
police  on  his  track. 

His  Excellency  had  previously  established  several  im- 
portant things  with  regard  to  the  theft  of  the  Chinese  memo- 
randum. He  knew  where  it  had  been  stolen,  who  sold  it 
to  the  press :  he  had  a  vague  idea  that  Naomi  knew  more 


276  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

than  she  had  revealed,  but  the  link  he  wanted  to  join  up 
was  the  precise  manner  in  which  Strum  got  the  copy  of  the 
memorandum  from  Zouche  to  London.  Then  his  Excel- 
lency heard  of  Mrs.  Melsham — she  was  his  agent,  Strum 
affirmed — he  and  she  together  had  engineered  the  whole 
affair.  Whether  he  did  not  know  that  Naomi  had  done 
the  actual  photographing  or  whether  it  was  that  at  last 
some  faint  spark  of  chivalry  glimmered  in  the  dark  places  of 
this  bully's  mind,  who  knows,  but  at  any  rate  he  said  nothing 
of  her  share  in  the  matter.  It  is  even  possible  that  he 
thought  she  might  be  more  useful  to  him  exonerated  than 
compromised.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  killing  the  goose 
which  lays  the  golden  eggs,  and  Strum  was  not  the  man  to 
forget  that.  However,  he  speedily  learnt  that  he  was  to 
have  no  further  opportunity  of  pursuing  his  peculiar  trade 
in  England.  Chi  Lung  offered  him  a  choice  of  alternatives : 
Strum  must  leave  London  that  very  night,  or  he  should  be 
denounced  to  the  authorities  on  the  common  law  charge  of 
stealing  the  Goeristadt  diamonds,  which  would  mean  extra- 
dition to  Germany,  but  if  he  elected  to  leave  England  he 
must  go  to  the  place  Chi  Lung  designated,  and  his  Excel- 
lency, for  reasons  best  known  to  himself,  chose  Teheran. 

All  this  was  unknown  to  Marketel,  and  Chi  Lung  men- 
tally glanced  at  it  with  the  double  satisfaction  of  having 
done  an  adroit  thing,  and  having  outwitted  the  Englishman. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  Paul  observed,  "  your  own  book  says 
the  virtuous  must  not  consort  with  the  wicked  lest  vice  go 
out  of  the  one  and  virtue  flow  from  the  other.  Strum  is  an 
evil  man,  I  tremble  lest  such  an  overflow  of  wickedness 
might  splash  dark  blots  even  on  to  your  Excellency's  stain- 
less tablet." 

"  Your  solicitude  comforts  me,"  retorted  Chi  Lung,  turn- 
ing the  shaft  aside.  "  But  I  am  not  the  first  who  started  out 
to  find  a  diamond  and  picked  up  a  splinter  of  glass." 

"  In  this  case,  so  long  as  the  glass  did  not  lacerate  your 
Excellency's  hand — or  his  foot — surely  all  is  well,"  answered 
Paul. 

"  There  are  other  hands  than  mine,   O  Learned,"  the 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  277 

old  man  answered  quickly,  "  there  are  other  feet  than  mine 
and  they  can  bleed  also." 

"  Whose  members  are  bleeding  now  ?  "  Paul  demanded 
sharply,  for  it  occurred  to  him  that  all  this  imagery  was  not 
merely  Celestial  love  of  verbal  display,  but  had  a  point 
hidden  beneath  it — "  and  whose  hands,"  he  went  on, 
"  strewed  glass  in  the  path  of  the  virtuous?  " 

His  Excellency  looked  up  and  smiled  blandly.  "  There 
are  many  thieves,  and  here  and  there  an  honest  man,"  he 
remarked. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  Paul  demanded,  and  he  got  up 
swiftly  and  stood  before  the  little  old  man,  "  do  you  know 
who  sold  the  Chinese  memorandum  to  the  Olympic?  A 
straight  answer,  if  you  please."     ■ 

"  And  why,"  asked  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung,  "  should  my 
tongue  make  economy  with  breath?  Lo,  was  it  not  the  evil- 
minded  one  who  has  just  left  my  door?  " 

"  Hermann  Strum?  " 

"If  that  is  how  you  call  him,  your  certainty  confirms  my 
poor  opinion." 

"  Then  why  was  he  received  in  your  house?  " 

"  Hermann  Strum  had  that  to  offer  which  was  of  value 
to  me,  the  least  of  the  servants  of  the  Sons  of  Heaven." 

"You  have  just  been  buying  information  from  him?" 
Paul  exclaimed. 

"  No,"  retorted  Chi  Lung.  "  This  worthless  one  spoke, 
and  he  of  the  many  pounds  of  flesh  listened." 

"  I  have  no  right  to  inquire  into  your  private  concerns," 
Paul  went  on,  "  but  I  must  ask  you — did  that  man  come  on 
anything  connected  with  Roger's  business?" 

The  old  man  put  up  his  claw-like  fingers  and  laid  them 
on  Paul's  arm. 

"  Go  softly,"  he  expostulated,  "  he  who  hurries  down  the 
road  often  trips  in  the  rut,  he  who  goes  deliberately  steps 
aside,  but  when  your  mind  is  well  furnished,  why  should 
not  your  feet  conduct  you  to  your  yamen  ?  " 

"  You  mean,  why  do  I  not  put  the  police  on  the  track?" 

"  Even  so." 


278  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  We  want  a  vindication,  not  a  scandal,"  said  Paul.  *'  But 
I  have  more  than  half  a  mind  to  take  your  advice." 

He  stood  frowning  and  thinking.  At  the  first  glance,  it 
seemed  the  obvious  thing  to  do.  Of  course  it  had  occurred 
to  him  before,  yet  though  to  copy  a  confidential  paper 
might  be  low  and  dishonorable,  it  could  not  be  ranked  as  a 
case  of  common  thieving,  and  a  bungling  investigation  might 
defeat  his  object  for  years. 

"  This  is  a  case  for  the  zeal  of  Roger's  friends,"  he  said 
after  a  pause. 

The  old  man  made  no  effort  to  combat  the  statement. 
Perhaps  he  meant  to  imply  that  the  confidential  part  of  the 
conversation  was  at  an  end,  for  he  went  to  the  door  and, 
opening  it,  clapped  his  hands  smartly. 

A  native  servant  entered  with  a  tray  of  glasses  and  a 
bottle  of  cordial — it  was  a  customary  Eastern  courtesy,  and 
Paul  poured  a  little  of  the  syrup  into  a  glass,  and  then 
motioned  the  man  away. 

"  Has  Roger  drunk  of  the  honey  dew  until  he  is  sick?  " 
Chi  Lung  inquired  abruptly. 

"  Roger  is  sick  at  heart — but  not  with  happiness,"  Paul 
answered,  "  it  is  with  hope  delayed." 

"  And  the  lily-flower — has  he  found  that  the  hours  do  not 
go  faster  for  her  presence  ?  "  the  old  man  asked  next. 

"  No  one  can  help  Roger  as  his  wife  can,"  Paul 
returned. 

"  Then  Roger's  eyes  still  but  see  the  peach-blossom  as 
the  dawn  sees  the  budding  flower  in  the  first  flush  of  the 
morning?"  the  old  man  asked. 

Paul  gave  up  metaphor — it  had  been  no  slight  effort  to 
his  directness  to  keep  it  up  so  long. 

"  Lady  de  la  Haye  is  as  fine  a  woman  as  a  man  can  hope 
to  have  for  a  wife,"  he  said  bluntly. 

"  Lo,"  retorted  Chi  Lung,  "  is  it  indeed  friendship  which 
sets  the  price  so  high  on  the  possession  of  another,"  he 
returned  abruptly  and  let  his  suavity  go.  "  Roger  turned 
to  the  pink  and  white  face,"  said  his  Excellency  malevo- 
lently, "  Roger  ignored  the  friend  of  long  years,  Roger  laid 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  279 

his  life  at  the  feet  of  lightness  and  forgot  the  wisdom  of 
him  who  had  grown  old  loving  him." 

"  A  man  must  cling  to  his  wife,"  put  in  Paul. 

"  And  has  this — this  possession  that  Roger  has  taken  to 
his  heart  brought  him  happiness?  "  asked  the  old  man. 

The  big  Englishman  shook  his  head. 

"  Ah,"  cried  out  Chi  Lung,  "  then  tell  Roger  this  from 
me — There  is  always  a  center  space,  even  in  the  box  of  a 
hundred  lids,  and  when  one  gets  there,  one  does  not  find 
a  diamond,  but  only  a  pinch  of  dust.  Tell  Roger  to  recol- 
lect this.  Tell  him  to  stay  at  home  and  take  counsel  with 
her  of  his  house.    Tell  him " 

"  Roger  is  coming  to  London  tonight,"  Paul  interrupted. 

"  Here,  so  soon  ?  Though  his  feet  did  not  pause,  not 
even  to  step  across  this  threshold  when  he  went  by  to  his 
house." 

"  He  will  not  pause  now,  your  Excellency,"  Paul  an- 
swered. "  He  is  only  on  his  way  through  London.  His 
wife  is  in  great  trouble — she  has  heard  this  afternoon  that 
her  mother  is  dead." 

"  Dead !  "  echoed  Chi  Lung. 

"  Yes,"  said  Paul,  "  Mrs.  Melsham  died  suddenly  at  Aix." 

"When  did  her  breath  leave  her  body?"  the  old  man 
asked. 

"  Yesterday,"  answered  Paul,  "  that  is,  as  far  as  I  can 
make  out." 

Chi  Lung  tucked  his  hands  back  into  his  sleeves. 

"  He  who  reckons  without  ill  luck  reckons  without  Fate," 
the  old  man  remarked.  "  This  poor  servant  thought  he  had 
displayed  wisdom — he  looked  for  revelations  and  lo ! — the 
great  book  is  suddenly  closed." 

Paul  rose  abruptly. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  said,  "  you  have  something  at  the 
back  of  your  mind — I  am  a  plain  man  and  I  cannot  follow 
you,  but  if  your  Excellency  knows  anything  that  can  help 
Roger,  I  beg  of  you  to  tell  me.  Surely,"  he  went  on,  his 
vehemence  rising,  "  your  old  friendship  with  the  De  la 
Hayes  demands  no  less." 


28o  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Chi  Lung  came  round  the  table  and  again  the  yellowed  old 
hand  fastened  on  his  big  muscular  arm. 

"  The  Great  Master,"  he  said,  "  oftentimes  spoke  of 
Faith,  but  of  tener  still  he  discoursed  of  Patience — recollect, 
they  are  the  twin  children  of  Wisdom,  and  forget  not  that 
their  elder  brother  is  Truth." 

"  I  don't  follow,  your  Excellency,"  retorted  Paul  ob- 
stinately. 

"  Then,"  said  Chi  Lung.  "  take  this  for  your  counsel,— Chi 
Lung  has  not  forgotten— Chi  Lung  has  not  slumbered  when 
he  should  have  pursued,  he  is  but  cautious,  for  his  many 
years  have  taught  him  that  to  pluck  an  unripe  fig  is  to  taste 
but  its  harsh  skin:  and  recollect,  O  man  with  a  mind  that 
would  hurry  as  the  fire  engine  hurries  along  the  road — that 
when  the  hour  is  propitious,  when  the  sun  is  high  in  the 
heavens — then  much  shall  be  revealed  that  will  astonish 
your  barbarian  ears." 

The  old  man  drew  back  as  he  finished  speaking.  He 
inclined  his  old  back  until  it  bent  well  towards  the  ground, 
and  then  raising  himself,  he  faced  Paul  Marketel  with  a 
bland  smile. 

Paul  understood.  His  Excellency  had  marked  out  his 
position.  When  Chi  Lung  considered  that  the  time  had 
come,  he  would  speak, — but  not  before. 

Paul  looked  at  his  watch.  Roger's  train  was  due  in  half 
an  hour.  He  explained  that  he  must  hurry  away  if  he  was 
to  be  in  time  to  meet  Roger  on  the  platform,  and  the  old 
Chinaman  let  him  go  without  so  much  as  making  a  pretense 
of  detaining  him. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Paul  Marketel  hastened  from  Portarlington  Square  down 
to  Liverpool  Street  Station,  and  arrived  at  the  platform  just 
as  the  Colchester  express  was  due.  Victoria  was  there  be- 
fore them  and  they  had  no  difficulty  in  finding  Roger  and 
his  wife.  Victoria  no  sooner  saw  Naomi  than  she  drew  her 
aside.  The  girl  looked  something  more  than  ill.  She  looked 
as  if  she  were  overweighted  to  the  breaking-point  and  in 
addition  the  blue  eyes  were  furtive,  and  now  and  again  a 
hunted  expression  came  into  them.  This,  Victoria  could  not 
help  telling  herself,  was  fear,  not  grief,  and  then  she  recol- 
lected having  heard  a  whisper  of  Mrs.  Melsham's  gambling 
propensities. 

"  Is  she  not  afraid  that  something  worse  has  happened 
at  Aix  than  she  has  been  informed  of  ? "  Victoria  asked 
herself.  Though  she  did  not  know  much,  she  did  know  a 
little  about  the  sequences  which  sometimes  followed  unre- 
strained gambling  on  the  Continent. 

The  idea  remained  in  Victoria's  mind  all  through  the 
hurried  meal  which  followed  at  a  certain  hotel  near  Charing 
Cross.  They  had  all  four  of  them  driven  there  to  be  close 
to  the  station,  and  so  that  Naomi  might  rest  until  the  last 
moment.  Though  it  was  in  Paul's  mind,  though  it  was 
hardly  ever  absent  from  Roger's  mind,  for  five  minutes  to- 
gether, no  mention  was  made  of  the  Chinese  memorandum, 
as  long  as  a  waiter  remained  in  the  overfurnished  little 
private  sitting  room,  but  when  the  coffee  was  on  the  table, 
and  Naomi  had  moved  aside  to  open  the  window,  saying  she 
felt  oppressed — Roger  put  down  his  cigarette. 

"Any  news?"  he  said  insistently,  but  in  a  low  tone,  to 
Paul. 

"  Yes !  I  saw  Chi  Lung  just  before  I  came  to  meet  you," 
Paul  answered.    "  I  can't  make  out  the  old  man.    I  suppose 

88l 


282  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

you  really  believe,  like  your  mother,  that  be  is  a  devoted 
friend  of  the  family?" 

"  Absolutely,"  said  Roger. 

"  H'm !  According  to  his  own  account,  he  owes  you  both 
an  undying  debt  of  gratitude.  Well,  doesn't  it  strike  you  as 
curious,"  went  on  Paul,  "  that  he  seems  so  little  anxious 
to  help?  Look  at  the  facts.  Ever  since  the  theft  of  the 
memorandum  Chi  Lung  has  opposed  objections,  scruples, 
and  delays  to  every  investigation  Carson  and  I  have 
started." 

"  But  why  should  he  want  to  hinder  us  ?  "  asked  Roger 
meditatively. 

"  Ah !  If  I  could  answer  that,  we  might  be  able  to 
explain  many  other  things.  It's  like  one  of  those  irritating 
toys  we  used  to  have  when  we  were  children.  Do  you 
remember?  That  box  they  called  a  Chinese  Puzzle.  Ham- 
mer it  how  you  liked  and  where  you  liked,  it  wouldn't 
open  for  all  your  battering;  but  put  your  finger  by  chance 
on  the  right  spring,  and  round  would  go  the  hinge  and  every 
side  of  that  blessed  box  revolved  showing  daylight  through. 
This  business  of  yours  is  like  that,"  Paul  added,  bending 
forward  and  touching  Roger's  arm.  "  A  Chinese  Puzzle ! 
And  we  sha'n't  see  daylight  through  it  till  we  have  touched 
that  spring." 

"  And  you  think  Chi  Lung  could  help  us  to  put  our  finger 
on  it  ?  "  queried  Roger. 

"  No,  I  believe  Chi  Lung  has  had  his  finger  on  it  all  the 
time,  and  is  determined  that  no  one  shall  come  near  it," 
answered  Paul. 

"  But,  Paul,  that's  impossible,"  exclaimed  Victoria,  who 
had  been  listening  silently  but  intently.  "  You  know  he  is 
in  disgrace  in  Pekin,  what  has  he  to  gain  from  any  conceal- 
ment ?  " 

"  There  you  beat  me,"  admitted  Marketel.  "  It  is  difficult 
to  reconcile  his  motives  and  his  interests  with  his  conduct, 
but,"  appealing  to  Roger,  "  your  mother  has  often  spoken 
to  me  of  the  Oriental  peculiar  aptitude  for — what  she  called 
— ^mental  jiu-jitsu." 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  283 

•'  Yes,  that's  true ;  still — I  can't  believe  that  Chi  Lung 
really  has  a  hand  in  the  business." 

"  Well,  it  has  taken  me  weeks  to  get  at  him,  and  even 
then  I  managed  it  only  through  an  accident,"  Paul  retorted, 
and  he  thereupon  proceeded  to  give  a  detailed  account  of  his 
interview  with  the  old  Chinaman.  "  There  are  lots  of  things 
which  want  explaining,"  he  finished  up.  "  How  does  Chi 
Lung  happen  to  know  a  man  like  Strum?  What  did  he 
mean  by  his  metaphorical  allusions  to  '  glass  strewed  in  the 
path  of  the  virtuous  '  and  to  *  other  hands  and  feet  bleeding 
through  a  splinter  of  glass  which  they  had  mistaken  for  a 
diamond  '  ?  "  And  as  he  finished,  Paul  looked  first  at  Roger, 
then  at  his  wife,  finally  at  that  figure  in  black  gazing  not 
at  him,  but  out  into  the  glimmering  street  as  if  to  emphasize 
its  detachment.  But  if  an  accusation  of  seeming  indifference 
might  have  been  brought  against  Naomi,  Roger  was  eager 
enough.  His  eyes  never  left  Paul's  face,  his  cigarette  went 
out,  yet  before  Marketel  ended,  his  training  showed  him 
the  practical  result  of  the  interview. 

"  We  are  not  one  step  farther  along,"  he  declared  bit- 
terly. 

Naomi  turned  suddenly  about,  and  for  one  moment  Vic- 
toria was  utterly  puzzled — there  was  relief  on  the  face  of 
Roger's  wife,  joy,  anything  but  disappointment. 

"How  did  you  manage  to  corner  Chi  Lung  after  all?" 
questioned  Roger. 

"  Ah !  that  was  really  a  piece  of  unexpected  good  for- 
tune," Marketel  answered.  "  Armand  came  to  see  me  this 
afternoon.  It  appears  he,  too,  had  been  trying  unsuccess- 
fully to  see  Chi  Lung  in  order  to  get  certain  information 
from  him,  and  was  just  leaving  Portarlington  Square — after 
having  been  told  that  his  Excellency  was  out  of  town — 
w-hen  he  saw  two  taxis,  closely  following  one  another,  drive 
up  to  the  old  man's  house.  Chi  Lung  stepped  out  of  the 
first  and  Fu  Yang  marshaled  Strum  out  of  the  other.  When 
Armand  had  sufficiently  recovered  from  his  astonishment, 
he  came  to  tell  me  what  he  had  seen." 

"  Did  Armand  explain  how  he  came  to  know  Strum  by 


284  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

sight?"  There  was  a  curious  hardness  in  Roger's  voice  as 
he  asked  the  question. 

Paul  noticed  nothing,  but  Naomi  understood.  Her  hus- 
band still  suspected  one  of  his  most  intimate  friends.  Mrs. 
Tune's  chance  remark  had  fallen  on  fruitful  ground.  She 
came  back  towards  the  table,  in  her  eagerness  to  hear  Paul's 
reply. 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  met  him  in  Nice  at  one  of  the  villas  there," 
Marketel  explained.  "  It  seems  Armand  took  part  in  a 
scene  of  some  sort  in  which  Strum  tried  to  blackmail  a 
woman." 

"  Did  he  mention  the  lady's  name?  "  said  Roger. 

Naomi  stood  stock  still,  one  hand  half  outstretched,  her 
lips  parted.  She  felt  unable  to  breathe,  half  suffocated,  rigid, 
and  then,  as  suddenly,  her  whole  frame  relaxed.  She  rea- 
lized that  Armand  must  have  kept  his  word.  If  Paul  had 
known  the  answer  to  that  particular  question,  he  would  not 
be  sitting  there  with  that  deliberate  impartially  judicial  air. 
Once  more  circumstance  had  spared  her.  She  dropped  into 
the  nearest  chair,  she  listened  to  Paul's  answer  as  if,  now, 
it  hardly  concerned  her. 

"  No,"  came  exactly  the  answer  she  had  expected, 
"  Armand  felt  it  was  not  fair  to  bring  up  this  woman's 
name  again." 

"  Of  course,"  murmured  Victoria. 

But  Roger  had  yet  one  more  question  to  ask. 

"  Did  Armand  seem  embarrassed  when  you  questioned 
him  about  his  acquaintance  with  Strum?" 

"  Embarrassed  !  "  Paul  exclaimed.  "  Armand !  Why 
should  he  be?  It's  merely  that  long  arm  of  coincidence  as 
far  as  we  are  concerned — besides,"  he  added,  dimly  perceiv- 
ing that  there  was  a  reservation  in  Roger's  mind,  "  one  does 
run  up  against  anybody  and  everybody  in  a  place  like  Nice," 

There  was  a  look  of  mingled  relief  and  disappointment  in 
Roger's  face ;  he  was  glad  that  Armand  seemed  to  be  inno- 
cent, but  on  the  other  hand,  once  more  it  made  the  solution 
of  the  mystery  as  far  off  as  ever. 

"  If  I  were  to  see  Chi  Lung  myself,"  he  ruminated,  "  I 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  285 

wonder  .  .  .  should  I  be  able  to  make  out  what  he  was 
driving  at." 

"  He  might  be  more  explicit  with  you,"  Paul  answered. 

"  But  when  am  I  to  see  him  ?  "  Roger  asked. 

"  As  the  Oriental  is  a  person  of  moods,  the  sooner  the 
better,"  Paul  suggested. 

Roger  glanced  down  at  his  watch.  "If  there  were  time 
I'd  go  now,"  he  said. 

"  But,"  put  in  Naomi  eagerly,  "  why  not  stay  now  and  see 
him  tomorrow  ?  " 

"  Stay !  "  repeated  Roger,  "  I  can't  let  you  go  alone." 

"Why  not?  I  have  Parker,"  answered  Naomi  with  a 
wan  little  smile.  "  Besides,  you  forget,  I  have  lived  in 
France  so  much.    I  know  all  the  formalities." 

"  But,"  muttered  Roger,  "  French  ofificials  can  be  trouble- 
some." 

"  It  won't  be  the  first  time  I  have  had  to  deal  with  them," 
said  his  wife.  She  pulled  up.  She  asked  herself  why  she 
was  pushing  Roger  into  staying.  She  reminded  herself  that 
she  did  not  know  how  much  Chi  Lung  really  knew,  and  yet 
for  some  reason,  was  it  a  woman's  intuition,  she  was  sure 
that  she  wished  Roger  to  remain  behind. 

Roger  hesitated,  he  disliked  the  idea  of  letting  Naomi  go 
alone.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  issues  were  tremendous. 
His  remaining  might  mean  the  discovery  of  the  culprit ;  his 
going  an  indefinite  delay.  There  was  another  consideration, 
too,  unconfessed,  but  potent.  He  shrank  from  the  thought 
of  an  encounter  with  French  officials.  They  might  have 
heard  the  story  of  the  Chinese  memorandum,  and  with  their 
established  attitude  of  accepting  each  man  as  guilty  until  he 
was  proved  innocent,  they  might  let  him  see  that,  in  their 
opinion,  he  was  no  better  than  a  criminal  at  large. 

"  Are  you  perfectly  certain  you  could  manage  alone  ?  "  he 
said  as  he  moved  over  and  sat  by  his  wife. 

"  Perfectly  sure,"  Naomi  answered.  "  Besides,"  she 
added,  knowing  Roger's  confidence  in  the  maid  who  had 
been  with  his  mother  for  3^ears  before  Naomi  was  married, 
"  Parker  will  look  after  me."    She  turned  to  Victoria,  and 


286  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

for  the  first  time  a  gleam  of  joyfulness  touched  her  face. 
"  Roger  has  a  profound  respect  for  Pari<er,"  she  said. 
"  Not  even  the  custom  house  officials  can  stand  up  against 
her." 

Victoria  felt  that  she  was  meant  to  second  the  change  of 
plans,  and  still  with  the  idea  that  there  might  be  some- 
thing in  the  background  concerning  Mrs.  Melsham,  she  lent 
her  weight  to  the  scale. 

Roger  only  required  a  little  persuading.  He  wished  to 
stay,  he  felt  so  much  depended  on  his  staying. 

"  Then,  if  you  really  don't  mind,"  he  told  Naomi,  and 
before  she  could  answer,  he  had  started  to  map  out  a  plan 
of  campaign. 

"  As  soon  as  we  have  seen  off  Naomi,"  he  told  Paul, 
"  we'll  drive  straight  back  to  Chi  Lung's  house.  I'll  appeal 
to  him,  and  when  I  have  heard  what  he  was  doing  with 
Strum  at  Portarlington  Square,  we  will  go  on  to  Carson." 

He  was  so  eager  that  he  hardly  saw  the  boat  train  leave 
the  platform,  before  he  turned  to  Paul. 

"  Now  for  it !  "  he  exclaimed. 

But  man  proposes — and  a  very  different  end  ensues  ;  when 
Paul  and  Roger  stood  together  facing  that  chocolate  fronted 
house,  they  were  both  struck  by  the  darkened  windows,  they 
rang  twice,  and  heard  the  bell  vibrate  as  if  through  empty 
space,  then,  just  as  they  were  looking  at  each  other  in 
consternation,  a  footman  out  of  livery  opened  the  doors. 

"  His  Excellency  is  not  at  home.  He  left  an  hour  ago," 
the  man  said. 

"  How  ?  "  exclaimed  Paul. 

"  By  motor." 

"Where  was  he  going?"  Roger  asked. 

The  man-servant  shook  his  head.  He  had  not  heard — all 
he  knew  was  that  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  had  taken  his  secre- 
tary with  him. 

"  Then  he  means  to  be  away  some  time,"  Roger  exclaimed 
dejectedly. 

Paul  shrugged  his  shoulders.  The  bird  had  flown.  They 
jvere  baffled  again.    They  could  only  turn  away  feeling  very 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  287 

crestfallen.  "  It's  to  elude  me,"  Roger  exclaimed.  "  Am  I 
always  just  to  get  to  the  verge  of  discovery  and  be  dis- 
appointed !  " 

They  decided  to  consult  Carson  and  drove  at  once  to  his 
flat.  Luck  was  with  them,  the  detective  was  in  and  saw 
them  immediately, 

Carson  looked  curiously  at  Roger  whom  he  had  not  seen 
since  the  first  interview  immediately  after  the  catastrophe 
and  his  keen  eyes  saw  the  changes  in  the  young  man ;  he 
saw  that  the  strain  was  beginning  to  affect  him  otherwise 
than  physically,  it  was  leaving  its  mark  on  the  man's  very 
soul. 

The  detective  was  genuinely  concerned.  He  was  some- 
what of  an  anomaly.  He  had  never  lost  his  love  for  the 
beautiful,  either  in  its  concrete  or  abstract  form,  and  he 
pursued  the  wrongdoer  in  much  the  same  spirit  that  an 
experimentalist  inoculates  rabbits  with  typhoid  germs,  to 
inflict  a  minor  pain  for  a  greater  gain.  Viewed  from  a 
professional  standpoint  Carson  had  been  intensely  annoyed 
that  Roger's  scruples  prevented  his  descending  at  once  on 
Zouche ;  viewed  as  the  attitude  of  a  well-bred  man  he  ap- 
preciated it — but  all  along,  viewed  from  his  experience  of 
such  investigations,  he  expected  this  attitude  to  be  modified. 

His  first  glance  at  the  two  men  assured  him  that  his  antici- 
pations were  correct.  Sir  Roger  de  la  Haye  had  waited  until 
he  could  wait  no  longer.  He  was  prepared  to  accede  to 
anything. 

"  Mr.  Carson,"  began  Roger,  "  Mr.  Marketel  and  I  have 
just  come  from  the  Chinese  envoy's  house.  We  did  not 
succeed  in  seeing  him  because  his  Excellency  had  left,  ap- 
parently at  a  moment's  notice.  This  journey,  which  seems 
to  me  to  have  been  undertaken  on  the  spur  of  the  moment, 
seems  so  extraordinary  that  we  have  been  wondering 
whether  it  could  be  connected  in  some  way  with  our  affair. 
What  do  you  think  ?  " 

"  Before  hearing  Mr.  Carson's  opinion,"  Paul  broke  in,  "  I 
think  we  ought  to  give  him  a  detailed  account  of  the  inter- 
view which  I  had  with  the  Marquis  yesterday." 


288  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

And  once  again  he  described  Chi  Lung's  attitude  as  it 
had  struck  him,  and  repeated  his  cryptic  sayings. 

The  detective  Hstened  in  silence.  When  Paul  had  finished, 
he  looked  up  with  a  sharp  question : 

"  You  say  he  seemed  to  take  a  special  interest  in  the 
success  of  Sir  Roger's  marriage?  " 

"  Yes,"  assented  Marketel,  "  and  if  it  is  ever  possible  for 
a  European  to  tell  by  look  or  word  what  an  Oriental  really 
feels,  I  should  say  he  was  moved  in  some  way  when  I  men- 
tioned that  Lady  de  la  Haye  was  in  trouble  because  of 
Mrs.  Melsham's  death." 

"  Mrs.  Melsham  is  dead?" 

Roger  nodded.  "  Yes ;  she  died  suddenly  at  Aix,  where 
she  has  been  living  since  my  wife's  marriage." 

"  But  I  understood  that  his  Excellency  somewhat  resented 
your  marriage,  Sir  Roger?  " 

"  In  a  way  he  did,"  Roger  admitted,  "  but  I  think  it  was 
merely  because  a  Celestial  can  never  understand  our  attitude 
about  marriage.  The  old  man  thought  I  ought  to  have 
consulted  him  before  making  my  choice.  He  once  said  to 
Marketel :  '  In  the  choice  of  his  bride  old  Chi  Lung  was 
forgotten.  My  counsel  is  a  weariness  to  him.'  Also  my 
wife  declares  that  he  dislikes  her  intensely,  but  probably  she 
exaggerates  somewhat." 

The  detective  nodded  and  said  no  more.  He  had  his  own 
ideas  about  his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung. 

"  There's  another  thing  I  think  you  ought  to  know,  Mr. 
Carson,"  Roger  said  presently,  and  his  face  hardened.  "  I 
accidentally  found  out  that  Mr.  Hirst,  who  was  one  of  our 
house  party  at  Zouche  during  that  week-end,  came  into  the 
possession  of  £2,000  very  shortly  after.  The  explanation  he 
gave  to  account  for  having  unexpectedly  found  the  means  of 
joining  the  Arctic  expedition  which  until  then  had  been 
beyond  his  reach,  I  happen  to  know  is  false  and  impossible." 

"  What  did  Mr.  Hirst  say?  "  asked  Carson. 

"  He  said  that  Edward  Buzby,  the  absconding  trustee,  had 
sent  the  money  to  him,  presumably  as  conscience  money ; 
now,  it  happens  to  be  a  fact  that  when  the  money  reached 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  289 

Billy  Hirst,  Buzby  had  been  dead  five  days.  Mr.  Marketel, 
whose  wife  was  one  of  the  scoundrel's  victims,  can  confirm 
what  I  say." 

Paul  sprang  up.  Up  till  now,  even  he,  for  once,  was  so 
taken  about  that  he  could  not  utter  a  single  word. 

"  Good  Lord !  "  he  exclaimed ;  "  what  are  you  driving  at, 
Roger?" 

"  I  want  to  know  where  Billy  got  that  money,"  Roger 
persisted  determinedly. 

"  I  can  tell  you,"  answered  Paul,  and  he  laughed  awk- 
wardly, ■'  since  you  must  know.     I  sent  Billy  that  money." 

"  You  ?    Why  on  earth  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  see,"  the  big  man  spoke  shamefacedly,  "  Billy 
had  practically  not  a  shilling  in  the  world  and  was  on  the 
point  of  going  out  with  an  expedition  under  some  Brazilian 
half-breed.  I  knew  what  that  meant,  I  too  knew  his  heart 
was  really  set  on  the  Arctic  expedition,  and  that  it  was 
merely  a  question  of  £2,000." 

The  detective  could  not  help  smiling,  the  man  of  money 
spoke  of  £2,000  as  if  it  were  a  mere  bagatelle.  "  So,"  went 
on  Paul  simply,  "  I  sent  him  the  money  anonymously  by 
special  messenger,  and  the  boy,  loath  to  think  evil  of  any- 
one, jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  Buzby  had  repented  and 
was  trying  to  make  reparation." 

Roger  sat  back  in  his  chair  with  something  very  nearly 
resembling  a  movement  of  vexation.  The  next  moment  the 
man's  innate  generosity  asserted  itself. 

"  Naomi  was  right,"  he  exclaimed,  "  she  said  she  knew 
Billy  was  innocent." 

Carson  looked  up  sharply,  but  said  nothing  for  a  few 
minutes,  then  he  turned  to  De  la  Haye. 

"  Lady  de  la  Haye  said  that,"  he  said. 

"  She  was  positive,"  answered  Roger  warmly. 

"  Why  ?    I  wonder,"  insinuated  the  detective  softly. 

"  A  woman's  intuition,  of  course,"  Roger  returned. 

"  The  unknown  quantity,"  supplemented  the  detective. 
He  sat  still  for  the  next  five  minutes,  thinking  hard. 

"  Sir  Roger,"  he  began,  when  he  raised  his  head,  "  I  have 


290  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

a  suggestion  to  put  before  you.  I  am  still  convinced  that 
the  culprit  was  someone  from  within.  Why  not  draw  up  a 
sort  of  chart  bearing  the  names  of  all  those  who  were  in 
the  house  at  the  time  and  ask  them  to  put  on  it  in  detail 
what  they  did  during  those  particular  hours?  I  feel  sure 
that  your  friends  would  not  mind  in  the  slightest  if  the 
plan  were  explained  to  them.  Even  if  it  does  not  actually 
lead  to  discovery,  it  will  narrow  down  the  field  of  inquiry 
considerably  and  make  it  easier  for  us  to  find  the  culprit 
eventually.  I  suggest  that  we  should  prepare  the  chart  with- 
out delay.  When  it  is  ready,  ask  all  those  who  were  at 
Zouche  during  that  week-end  to  come  there  again,  and  tell 
them  of  your  plan.  I  will  undertake  to  help  them  all  to 
remember  how  they  spent  their  time." 

And  Roger  v/ith  a  picture  of  the  meeting  with  Helmside 
in  the  Piazza  del  Erbe  at  Verona  Square,  of  the  pile  of 
refusals  that  had  met  him  on  his  return  to  Zouche,  and 
of  his  life  there  since  his  return — consented. 

As  soon  as  the  train  was  well  out  of  Charing  Cross  Sta- 
tion the  smile  which  Naomi  had  conjured  up  for  Roger's 
benefit  faded  from  her  face.  She  rarely  found  herself  alone 
without  going  back  over  the  same  entangled  mass  of  con- 
siderations, so  now  her  first  thought  was  for  Roger,  for  his 
unhappiness.  If  she  could  have  paid  the  price  herself,  she 
would  have  discharged  the  debt  in  full,  not  only  gladly'  but 
humbly  and  thankfully.  It  was  that  ever-enlarging  ring  of 
consequences  which  dismayed  her.  A  woman's  past  in- 
variably strays  into  her  future.  That  she  accepted;  what 
she  did  not  accept,  was  that  an  innocent  victim  should 
suffer  for  the  guilty. 

She  had  come  to  the  point  when  she  would  have  not  only 
confessed,  but  when  she  would  have  found  a  real  relief  in 
confession.  But  she  knew  now  that  such  a  course  would 
merely  shift  the  incidence  of  the  disgrace.  A  man  whose 
wife  was  little  short  of  a  common  thief,  could  only  retire, 
Roger's  career  would  be  doubly  ruined  and  in  addition  he 
would  have  lost  his  faith  in  his  wife.    He  would  feel  that 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  291 

the  Naomi  he  loved  had  never  existed.  Confession  was  out 
of  the  question.  She  must  go  on  temporizing,  deviating, 
fighting  until  she  sank  worsted  or  discovery  intervened. 

The  short  crossing  was  rough  and  stormy,  and  physical 
discomfort  prevented  Naomi  thinking  of  anything  else,  but 
when  she  was  once  again  in  the  train,  hastening  across 
France  at  sixty  miles  an  hour,  her  thoughts  went  back  to 
the  same  topic. 

Chi  Lung  hated  her — of  that  she  was  sure.  Chi  Lung 
knew  Hermann  Strum — Paul  was  as  determined  as  Roger 
to  find  the  thief. 

They  had  a  detective  at  work.  She  especially  dreaded 
Carson. 

Last  but  not  least,  Armand  de  Rochecorbon  was  possessed 
of  the  key  to  the  mystery.  Whether  he  knew  it  or  not,  he 
had  but  to  mention  the  Villa  Paul  et  Virginie,  to  say  what 
had  passed  there — and  the  whole  matter  became  as  clear  as 
daylight. 

Naomi  sat  looking  out  into  the  night.  Parker  was  nod- 
ding beside  her,  but  she  could  not  rest.  She  watched  the 
moonlight  flooding  the  landscape,  and  the  silver  glow  re- 
called the  first  night  she  met  Roger.  She  had  vowed  then  to 
keep  her  friendship  with  him  free  from  her  mother's  evil 
influence,  and  unwittingly  she  had  exploited  him,  as  she  had 
exploited  no  one  else,  in  her  mother's  interests.  Now,  that 
mother  was  dead,  "  And,"  said  Roger's  wife  to  herself,  **  I 
am  not  sorry  as  I  ought  to  be.  I  cannot  grieve  as  a 
daughter  should  for  a  mother." 

Naomi  was  delayed  most  of  a  day  in  Paris  attending  to 
formalities  at  Mrs.  Melsham's  bank,  so  she  reached  Aix 
when  the  pink  and  gold  of  the  dawn  had  hardly  faded  out 
of  the  sky.  She  drove  through  the  streets  she  knew  so 
well,  and  asked  for  rooms  at  a  quiet  little  hotel  beyond  the 
etablissemenf  des  bains  called  Le  Pavilion  des  Ruines.  She 
recollected  that  the  proprietor  was  a  benevolent  soul,  and 
that  in  the  old  days  madame,  his  wife,  had  looked  on  her 
with  a  kindly  eye.  At  first  it  seemed  almost  impossible  to 
the  worthy  couple  that  the  English  girl  they  recollected 


292  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

always  short  of  money,  always  driven  to  expedients,  could 
be  this  beautifully  dressed  "Milady"  with  a  maid' and  a 
dressing-bag  with  gold  fittings,  but  once  Naomi  explained 
her  errand,  madame  sympathetically  recollected  that  Made- 
moiselle had  always  been  "  L'Ange  de  la  Maison  "  and  papa, 
whose  business  it  was  to  do  his  better  half's  bidding,  was 
commanded  to  exert  himself  to  his  utmost  with  Monsieur  le 
Prefet.  All  that  monsieur's  utmost  spared  her,  Naomi  knew 
well  enough.  French  officialdom  can  be  exasperating  past 
endurance,  bewildering  enough  to  drive  one  off  one's  head, 
but  though  there  were  some  very  disagreeable  moments, 
things  went  as  easily  for  her  as  might  be,  and  in  less  than 
a  week  Naomi  was  ready  to  return  to  England. 

The  "rapide"  left  about  five  in  the  evening,  and  after 
dejeuner,  while  Parker  packed  zealously,  Naomi  strolled  out 
into  the  little  strip  of  garden  known  as  the  Pare.  Imme- 
diately before  her  were  the  fragments  of  the  two  Corin- 
thian columns,  dating  from  the  Roman  occupation,  which 
gave  its  name  to  the  little  hotel,  further  along  were  the 
wooded  heights  towering  above  the  town,  and  to  the  left 
was  the  little  lake  of  Bourget  with  its  water  as  placid  and 
as  blue  as  if  no  storm  ever  disturbed  them.  But  Naomi's 
eyes  fixed  themselves  on  the  glimmer  of  marble  and  white 
stone  which  showed  amid  the  ilex  trees  and  pines  halfway 
up  the  hill.  It  was  the  little  cemetery  attached  to  the 
English  church.  Mrs.  Melsham  was  buried  there.  Naomi 
had  ordered  flowers  to  be  laid  on  the  grave,  they  were  there 
now,  still  fresh  and  fragrant.  She  would  send  other  flowers, 
later  she  would  put  up  a  simple  memorial,  but  would  she 
ever  come  back  to  visit  the  spot?  All  her  being  yearned 
to  sorrow  even  as  other  children  sorrowed  for  other 
parents. 

She  left  the  Pare  and  began  to  climb  the  hill,  hardly 
realizing  whither  she  was  going.  She  wandered  into  the 
cemetery.  The  position  she  had  chosen  for  the  grave  was 
on  the  crest  of  a  little  hillock,  away  from  the  other  tomb- 
stones. The  sun  shone  on  the  freshly  turned  earth,  the 
wind  from  the  lake  cooled  the  hot  sunlight.     Naomi  sank 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  293 

down  on  her  knees.  Even  now  she  wished  her  heart  would 
go  out  in  love,  in  mourning. 

"  I  wonder,"  she  said,  "  if  the  dead  know  what  happens 
to  those  they  leave  behind  them  ?  " 

She  hoped  not  in  this  case.  If  death  had  enlarged  Mrs. 
Melsham's  vision,  then  surely  she  must  recognize  all  the 
sorrow  she  had  bequeathed  to  her  only  child.  Naomi  rose. 
She  was  tired,  she  was  hopeless,  but  the  mere  wish  that  her 
mother  might  be  kept  from  remorse  had  brought  a  certain 
quietness. 

"  Perhaps,"  she  said  softly,  "  mama  never  had  a  chance." 

She  turned  to  leave  the  grave,  and  as  she  did  so  a  gasp, 
a  moan  of  fear  escaped  her  lips.  She  saw — she  really  did 
see?  it  was  not  a  trick  of  her  imagination? — she  saw  his 
Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  coming  towards  her. 

She  watched  the  shuffling  gait,  she  heard  the  padding  of 
the  soft  boots,  she  watched  the  old  man  come  nearer  and 
nearer.  His  pace  was  so  deliberate  that  it  seemed  to  her 
that  he  never  would  get  round  the  bend  and  on  to  the  little 
level  strip  freshly  cut  out  of  the  hillside  for  the  grave ;  but, 
when  he  was  only  a  few  inches  from  her,  his  Excellency 
the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  stopped,  he  cast  down  his  slanting 
eyes,  he  tucked  a  hand  into  either  sleeve. 

"  Your  Excellency  here  ?  "  Naomi  stammered. 

"  Even  so,"  the  old  man  answered  smoothly,  but  he  darted 
a  glance  at  her,  and  the  malignity  in  his  eyes  terrified 
her. 

"  I — I — I "   she  began.     Her  voice   failed  her,  her 

mind  refused  to  go  on  with  the  sequence  of  the  sentence. 

"  So,"  observed  Chi  Lung,  "  silence  is  golden.  Yet  the 
voice  of  the  peach  blossom  is  as  soft  as  the  murmur  of 
running  water.  Why  are  these  old  ears  denied  its  music? 
Has  the  white  lily  no  greeting  for  him  held  in  esteem  by 
her  strong  partner?  " 

"  Your  Excellency,"  Naomi  forced  herself  to  ask,  "  you 
followed  me  here?" 

"  Even  so." 

"Why?" 


294  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Is  it  not  well  to  watch  with  filial  grief  ?  " 

"  You  would  see  for  yourself  that  my  mother  is 
dead  ? " 

"  The  fresh  earth,  the  mourning  robe,  are  they  not  wit- 
nesses? "  the  Chinaman  answered.  Naomi  locked  her  hands 
together.  So,  for  some  purpose  of  his  own,  this  old  man 
had  traveled  all  the  way  from  London  to  Aix  to  satisfy 
himself  that  the  report  of  Mrs.  Melsham's  death  was 
true. 

Naomi  had  not  to  ask  herself  twice  what  that  purpose 
might  be.  It  could  only  be  connected  with  the  Chinese 
memorandum,  and  therefore  his  Excellency  must  know  or 
must  suspect  that  her  mother  was  in  some  way  concerned 
in  the  theft. 

"  Your — your  Excellency,"  she  stammered,  "  why — why 
have  you  come?    Tell  me,  what  brought  you  here?  " 

The  wrinkled  old  face,  as  malignant  as  an  idol  in  an  old 
Thibetan  temple,  looked  pitilessly  at  the  starting  blue  eyes, 
at  the  twitching  lips,  and  then  all  at  once  Naomi's  control 
failed  her. 

"Tell  me,"  she  clamored,  "why  have  you  come  here? 
For  God's  sake,  your  Excellency,  don't  play  with  me  any 
longer.  Why  do  you  hate  me?  Why  do  you  like  to  tor- 
ture me  ?  " 

"  Peace !  "  began  the  old  man  in  his  easiest  tone,  and  then 
his  Excellency  suddenly  seemed  to  change  his  mind.  *'  Let 
plain  words  speak,  then,"  he  decided.  "  Let  dust  know  it  is 
no  better  than  dirt.  To  Roger  the  peach  blossom  is  a  price- 
less flower,  to  Chi  Lung  it  is  no  better  than  a  shriveled  husk, 
for  he  knows  the  secret  that  the  woman  thinks  she  is 
hiding." 

"  What  secret?  "  gasped  Naomi. 

"  Is  there  more  than  one?  "  demanded  his  Excellency,  and 
he  put  out  his  hand  and  clutched  her  sleeve.  "  The  reptile 
Hermann  Strum  sold  the  memorandum  to  the  sheets  of 
intelligence,  but  was  there  not  another  who  carried  the 
writing  to  the  hands  of  Hermann  Strum?  " 

Naomi  looked  wildly  at  the  old  Celestial.    All  her  com- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  295 

posure  had  failed  her,  she  was  panic-stricken.  She  could 
neither  think  nor  speak,  she  broke  away,  she  edged  down 
to  the  low  wall  which  fenced  the  graveyard  from  the  drop 
of  the  hill  below,  she  clung  to  it  as  if  she  must  find  shelter 
under  its  shadow,  support  from  the  mere  uprising  of  its 
four  feet  of  solid  masonry. 

The  old  man  followed  her.  As  she  cowered  away,  he 
came  on  until  she  got  to  the  bend  where  the  wall  joined  the 
unreclaimed  hillside,  and  she  could  get  no  further.  There 
Roger's  wife  turned  about.  She  put  her  hands  on  the 
boulders  behind  her,  leaned  forward,  every  nerve  quivering 
with  fear,  her  whole  frame  trembling. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  asked.  "  What  are 
you  going  to  tell  Roger?" 

The  old  man  looked  at  her.  He  knew  something  about 
the  amount  of  pain,  mental  or  physical,  that  a  human  frame 
could  stand,  and  he  saw  that  Naomi  was  near  to  the  break- 
ing-point. 

It  was  not  pity,  it  was  expediency,  the  fear  that  if  he 
delayed  too  long  he  might  be  balked  of  the  full  measure  of 
revenge  which  made  him  speak. 

"  The  pear  falls  to  the  ground  when  the  fruit  is  ripe," 
he  told  her. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  "  she  besought.  "  What 
are  you  going  to  do?"  she  repeated.  "Oh.  I  know,"  she 
went  on,  her  voice  rising  to  a  shrill  note — "  you  are  going 
to  tell  Roger,"  and  then,  incoherently,  she  returned  to  her 
first  question.    "  What  are  you  going  to  do?  "  she  bewailed. 

"  Nothing,"  answered  his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi 
Lung,  "  I  am  going  to  do  nothing." 

He  had  calculated  on  the  effect  of  an  unexpected  respite. 
"  A  man  can  die  twice  over  while  his  head  is  yet  on  his 
shoulders,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  and  then  what  his  Excel- 
lency had  foreseen  came  to  pass.  Naomi  lurched  back  and 
forth,  her  hands  slipped  nervelessly  from  their  support,  she 
rolled  down  sideways,  and  lying  prone  in  a  huddled  mass  of 
black  drapery  and  golden  hair,  her  cheek  rested  on  the  fresh 
earth  of  her  mother's  grave. 


2g6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Nature  had  been  merciful  if  humanity  was  not.  It  had 
at  least  given  her  a  temporary  respite. 

Chi  Lung  looked  at  the  unconscious  figure,  he  shrugged 
his  lean  shoulders.  "  The  culprit  cries  out  when  he  sees  the 
bamboo,"  the  old  man  told  himself  and  he  turned  away  with- 
out so  much  as  a  backward  glance. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

The  afternoon  of  the  next  day  following  his  interview  with 
Naomi,  his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  sat  in  that 
inner  room  at  Portarlington  Place,  of  which  Paul  Marketel 
had  caught  but  one  glimpse. 

Perhaps  the  fatigue  of  the  two  long  journeys  in  quick 
succession  had  told  on  the  old  man,  for,  as  he  squatted  on 
the  low  cushions,  his  face  was  not  only  impassive,  it  was 
emptied  of  every  expression,  save  that  of  a  weariness  which 
had  yet  an  element  of  alertness  about  it. 

The  old  Chinaman  was  awaiting  developments,  much  in 
the  same  way  as  the  experienced  tabby  waits  for  the  unwary 
mouse.  His  Excellency  might  be  conscious  of  his  physical 
exhaustion :  he  was  equally  conscious  of  his  strong  position. 

*'  It  is  he  with  much  gold  in  his  bag  whom  beggars  im- 
portune," he  told  himself. 

So  far,  if  he  had  expected  a  message  from  Naomi,  none 
had  arrived.  On  the  other  hand,  on  his  return  Chi  Lung 
found  a  letter  from  Roger  beseeching  him  to  come  to  Zouche 
on  the  following  day.  Then  Roger  went  on  to  say  that  he 
and  Marketel  were  following  out  the  suggestion  of  a  chart. 
They  were  preparing  a  time-table  by  which  they  would 
know  what  each  guest  was  doing  during  each  hour  of  the 
day  of  the  theft,  and  the  letter  finished  with  a  moving  appeal 
to  his  Excellency  to  help  them  with  his  presence.  For  the 
sake  of  his  dead  father,  for  the  sake  of  old  friendship.  Sir 
Arthur  de  la  Haye's  son  begged  the  special  envoy  from 
China  to  come  to  Zouche. 

The  old  man  had  the  letter  by  him.  He  had  read  it  at 
least  a  dozen  times,  he  took  it  up  once  more.  Roger  had 
arrived  at  the  point  of  imploring  his  help,  Roger  had  come 
to  see  for  himself  that,  not  even  in  the  most  intimate  cir- 
cumstances of  his  private  life,  could  he  pass  over  his  old 
friend  from  the  East. 

897 


298  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  He  who  rejects  the  stout  oak,  and  would  lean  on  a  split 
bamboo,  must  expect  a  wound  in  the  palm,"  the  old  man 
muttered. 

Then,  just  as  a  hunter  examines  each  strand  of  the  net, 
when  a  fine  quarry  is  in  question,  Chi  Lung  carefully 
marshaled,  once  again,  the  facts  of  the  case.  He  went  back 
to  that  hour  at  Zouche,  when  the  first  suspicion  of  Naomi 
had  entered  his  mind,  he  reviewed  the  careful  steps  by 
which  he  had  come  to  find  that  his  ancient  enemy  Strum 
was  implicated  in  this  theft  also,  and  then,  for  during  the 
weeks  of  seeming  inertia  the  old  man  had  spared  neither 
time,  money  nor  labor,  he  had  run  Strum  to  earth,  had 
extricated  from  him  what  he  had  to  reveal,  and  had  pro- 
vided that  Paul  Marketel  should  learn  exactly  so  much  that 
he  wanted  above  all  things  to  know  more. 

"  The  best  wine  takes  the  longest  to  mellow,"  the  old  man 
chuckled ;  and  then  his  face  darkened. 

Paul  Marketel  had  mentioned  Mrs.  Melsham's  death,  and 
his  Excellency  still  felt  that  she  deserved  a  special  punish- 
ment for  departing  this  life  several  days — no  more  than  that 
— too  soon  to  be  convenient  for  his  plans. 

Perhaps,  before  even  Paul  had  taken  his  leave,  the  old 
man  had  determined  to  go  to  France.  "  The  door  of  Death 
opens  but  rarely  when  the  undertaker  is  at  leisure,"  his 
Excellency  summed  up. 

So  he  and  his  secretary  took  the  boat  over  to  Paris  via 
Dieppe,  while  Naomi  went  via  Boulogne.  The  Chinaman 
chose  the  less-frequented  route,  as  he  wished  no  one  to 
know  of  his  departure.  In  Aix  he  found  few  difficulties. 
Mrs.  Melsham's  body  was  lying  at  the  local  morgue,  there 
had  been  an  inquiry  as  to  her  death,  and,  as  the  Oriental 
diplomat  knew  exactly  how  to  go  about  such  things,  it  was 
easy  for  him  to  obtain  a  glimpse  of  the  dead  woman's 
dossier,  besides,  the  hotelkeeper,  still  smarting  under  the 
wrong  Mrs.  Melsham  had  done  him  by  dying  in  such  a 
conspicuous  fashion,  and  judiciously  encouraged  by  Fu 
Yang,  who  posed  as  a  Celestial  enamored  of  French  com- 
mercial methods,  told  more  than  he  perhaps  meant  of  the 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  299 

shifts  and  evasions  by  which  his  cHent  paid  for  her  rooms, 
Chi  Lung  had  convinced  himself  that  Mrs.  Melsham  was 
impHcated  in  the  theft. 

It  only  remained  for  him  to  find  out  who  had  actually 
taken  the  photographs.  He  determined  to  see  Naomi  be- 
fore she  left  Aix.  He  had  a  careful  watch  set  on  her  move- 
ments. He  heard  that  she  grew  paler  and  more  listless,  and 
he  was  informed  of  her  setting  out  for  the  cemetery  as  soon 
as  she  began  to  mount  the  hill.  Instantly  the  old  man,  with 
that  calculated  cruelty  of  the  Oriental,  determined  to  follow 
her.  The  time,  the  place,  the  reminiscences  the  situation 
were  sure  to  evoke,  would  all  tell  against  her,  and  in  addition 
there  would  be  the  shock  of  seeing  him.  Judiciously  in- 
timidated, Roger's  wife  would  be  sure  to  blurt  out  all  she 
knew.  Chi  Lung's  calculations  proved  as  correct  as  they 
were  apt  to  be  when  he  was  dealing  with  human  weakness. 
He  learned  that  Naomi's  participation  in  the  theft  had  been 
active  and  positive.  Then  he  left  her  without  as  much  as 
a  twinge  of  pity.    What  did  it  matter  if  she  lived  or  died? 

As  a  matter  of  fact  he  knew  that  she  had  survived,  for 
unknown  to  them  he  had  actually  traveled  as  far  as  Paris 
in  the  same  train  as  Naomi  and  her  maid.  When  Naomi 
opened  her  eyes  on  that  sun-flecked  hillside,  it  was  to  find 
Parker  anxiously  bending  over  her. 

Parker  had  been  in  the  service  of  Roger's  mother  before 
Naomi's  marriage.  She  had  accompanied  the  girl  on  her 
honeymoon  at  Amabelle's  suggestion,  she  looked  after 
Naomi's  well-being,  and  incidentally  after  Roger's  too — 
with  precisely  that  devotion  which  no  wage  can  buy ;  so 
now,  all  the  trunks  corded,  and  the  hotel  bills  settled,  she 
set  out  to  find  her  mistress.  She  tracked  her  out  of  the 
Pare,  heard  from  the  concierge  at  the  gate  that  he  had  seen 
"  his  ladi  "  walking  up  the  hill,  and  concluded,  at  once,  that 
the  cemetery  had  been  the  girl's  destination. 

Once  there,  Parker  made  straight  to  Mrs.  Melsham's 
grave;  Naomi  was  just  returning  to  consciousness  as  she 
hurried  up.  The  beautiful  Lady  de  la  Haye  was  squatting 
on  the  ground,  she  was  cowering  as  if  she  expected  a  blow. 


300  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  You,"  she  babbled  unsteadily,  when  she  saw  her  maid, 
"  you — who — who  else — have  you  seen " 

Her  words  trailed  away  again.  Parker  concluded  that  her 
mistress  was  half-dazed,  and  just  as  she  supposed  to  quiet 
a  groundless  fear  she  assured  Naomi  that  there  was  no  one 
about  but  herself,  that  she  had  not  seen  another  soul  in  the 
cemetery  but  a  beggar  as  she  came  up  the  hill. 

"  Most  folks  would  have  more  sense  than  to  walk  up 
hills  with  the  sun  as  hot  as  it  is  this  time  of  day,"  Parker 
concluded  severely. 

Naomi  began  to  cry  weakly.  She  implored  Parker  not  to 
leave  her,  to  help  her  up,  to  take  her  away  from  the  ceme- 
tery, away  from  Aix,  and  Parker,  sure  that  at  all  times 
home,  especially  an  English  home,  was  the  best  place,  was 
only  too  willing  to  do  her  utmost. 

She  put  her  arm  round  Naomi's  waist  and  guided  her 
along.  With  each  step  Naomi's  courage,  her  determination 
asserted  themselves.  She  must,  she  would  be  well  enough 
to  leave  Aix  by  the  evening  train. 

Her  determination  justified  itself.  She  and  Parker  jour- 
neyed straight  through  to  London,  but  Roger,  when  he  met 
the  travelers  at  Victoria,  was  shocked  by  his  wife's  appear- 
ance. 

"  I  ought  not  to  have  let  you  go  alone !  "  he  said  to  her ; 

as  soon  as  they  were  in  the  motor,  "  still "  and  he  looked 

out  of  the  window.  Naomi  noticed  the  break  in  the  sen- 
tence, she  saw  his  preoccupied  air,  she  was  back  again  amid 
the  dismal  round  of  reservation,  suspicion,  brooding. 

Then  Roger  all  at  once  sat  back  with  a  jerk. 

"  My  poor  darling,"  he  exclaimed  penitently,  "  to  think 
of  my  letting  you  go  all  alone !  What  a  selfish  brute  I  am 
becoming,  but  you  did  know,  dear " 

She  stopped  him.  The  revolving  wheel  was  coming  back 
to  the  same  point.  She  smiled  at  him,  closed  her  eyes,  and 
pretended  to  be  asleep.  Leaving  him  to  his  thoughts,  think- 
ing her  thoughts,  was  better  than  saying  certain  things  aloud. 
But  the  car  was  hardly  clear  of  the  London  suburbs  and 
speeding  down  that  long  stretch  of  level  road,  which  runs 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  301 

eastward  right  through  Essex,  before  Roger  touched  his 
wife's  arm. 

"  Dear,"  he  asked,  "  are  you  too  tired  to  listen  to  me?  " 

"  No,"  she  answered.  She  sat  up,  alert,  disturbed.  She 
had  heard  the  excitement  in  Roger's  voice.  She  looked  side- 
ways and  saw  the  uneasy  expression  in  his  eyes.  "  What  is 
it?  "  she  asked  fearfully. 

"  This,"  began  Roger,  and  quickly,  tersely,  giving  her  no 
time  to  dissent,  for  he  knew  how  little  his  wife  would 
welcome  an  investigation  at  Zouche  itself,  he  told  her  of 
the  latest  plan,  and  described  the  chart  and  its  purpose.  A 
new  fear  clutched  at  Naomi's  heart.  Even  if  Chi  Lung  kept 
to  his  announced  intention  of  saying  nothing,  and  if  he 
spared  her,  she  was  well  aware  it  would  not  be  to  ease  her, 
it  seemed  as  if  the  truth  must  come  out.  She  would  never 
be  strong  enough,  adroit  enough  to  evade  Carson's  cross- 
examination. 

"  Shall  I  have  to  fill  up  a  column  too  ?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Of  course.  It  must  be  everyone  or  no  one.  It  wouldn't 
he  fair  otherwise." 

"  I  shall  never  be  able  to  remember  exactly  what  I  did," 
began  Naomi. 

She  leaned  away  from  her  husband,  right  into  the  corner 
of  the  car. 

"  That  is  another  lie !  I  am  always  lying,"  she  told  her- 
self, for  every  minute  of  that  day  was  mapped  out  on  her 
brain  as  if  it  had  been  drawn  there  by  a  pencil  pointed  with 
fire,  and  she  knew  that  there  was  quite  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
to  account  for  between  her  mother's  leaving  the  salon  with 
Lady  de  la  Haye  and  her  own  rejoining  them  on  the  terrace. 

Roger  put  out  his  arm  and  drew  her  back  towards 
him. 

"  Oh,  yes !  you  will  remember,  dear,  if  you  try,  and  you 
must  try ;  it  means  so  much  to  me  now.  Begin  now.  Think 
as  we  go  along.  You  have  a  good  memory,  make  it  woric 
now,"  he  persisted. 

"  Yes,"  she  said  feebly.  She  knitted  her  brow,  and  Roger 
was  silent.    Probably  he  thought  she  was  going  back  to  the 


302  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

day  of  the  theft ;  in  reality,  she  was  so  filled  with  pain,  with 
apprehension,  that  it  was  all  she  could  do  to  sit  still. 

Yet  when  the  car  turned  into  the  gates  at  Zouche,  she 
asked  herself  if  she  did  not  wish  they  had  twenty  miles 
more  to  go.  But  once  within  the  house,  Naomi  found  that 
Lady  de  la  Haye,  Victoria,  and  Aimee  were  there  before 
her,  and  as  soon  as  she  saw  them,  she  realized  that  they 
would  stand  between  her  and  immediate  peril.  They  were 
all  touched  by  her  appearance,  sure  that  she  was  over-tired, 
they  vied  with  each  other  in  offering  her  little  attentions. 
Naomi  looked  from  one  to  the  other  tremulously. 

What  would  they  think  of  her,  say  of  her  on  the  morrow? 
Would  one  of  them  take  her  hand,  address  her,  even  look 
her  way? 

Littleport  had  placed  the  tea  table  in  the  Queen  Anne 
room,  and  there  Naomi  joined  the  women  of  the  party  as 
soon  as  she  had  taken  off  her  hat. 

"  Make  tea,  Aimee,"  she  said,  remembering  the  girl's 
pleased  air  behind  the  tea  table  at  Filisburg,  and  then  she 
asked  where  Paul  might  be. 

"  I  think  he  is  with  Roger  in  the  Chinese  Room,  confer- 
ring with  him  about  tomorrow,"  Victoria  answered. 

Naomi  put  down  her  teacup  abruptly,  for  her  hand 
trembled  until  the  spoon  rattled  in  the  saucer. 

*'  Who  is  really  coming  tomorrow?  "  she  asked. 

"  Has  not  Roger  told  you?  "  Amabelle  replied. 

"  Everyone,"  put  in  Aimee  impulsively. 

"  Everyone !  "  echoed  Naomi.  Was  the  ordeal  to  be  even 
more  severe  than  she  had  reckoned  on?  "No!"  she 
objected  with  an  odd,  jerky  laugh.  "  Surely  not  everyone. 
Neither  Billy  nor  Armand  can  be  here." 

"  But  they  will  be,"  pursued  Aimee.  "  Armand  is  here 
already,"  and  she  gave  a  highly  colored  description  of  the 
little  Frenchman's  arrival  in  his  car,  which  he  had  chris- 
tened "  La  Belle  Audace,"  and  of  his  voluble  prophecies 
as  to  its  capacity  for  breaking  the  world's  speed  record. 

"  But,"  quavered  Naomi,  "  I  thought  he  had  started." 

"  For  Pekin,"  interjected  Aimee  again.     "  He  put  it  off 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  303 

to  help  Roger "  and  she  added,  for  the  child  had  a 

capacity  for  taking  hold  of  a  dramatic  situation  and  hasten- 
ing the  crisis.  "  He  has  gone  to  pick  up  Billy  and  taken  Paul 
with  him.  Victoria  is  wrong.  Paul  isn't  with  Roger.  I 
saw  him  go  off  with  Armand." 

"  You  see  everything,  Miss  Mischief,"  began  Victoria,  but 
Naomi  brushed  aside  any  attempted  lightness. 

"  Is  Billy  in  England,  too? "  she  cried  out  hopelessly. 

The  exclamation  elicited  further  details.  Billy's  relief 
ship  had  never  got  farther  than  New  Zealand,  for  the  ex- 
pedition was  met  there  by  the  news  that  the  original  ship, 
of  which  they  were  going  in  search,  had  got  clear  of  the 
ice. 

"  There  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  turn  round  and  go  home 
again,"  the  girl  said,  and  she  went  on :  "  Then  Paul  saw  the 
announcement  in  the  newspapers  that  Billy  was  due  in 
London  just  at  this  time,  and  wired  him  to  come  on  im- 
mediately to  Zouche.  Billy  in  his  turn  had  lost  no  time,  he 
had  set  off  on  a  motorcycle,  but  the  cycle  was  not  equal  to 
Billy,  or  Billy  to  the  cycle — anyway  there  had  been  a  break- 
down, and  Billy  had  telephoned  from  Sherisham,  a  little 
village  sixteen  miles  away,  saying  he  was  stranded." 

Naomi  took  up  her  cup  and  drank  off  the  remainder  of 
her  tea.  She  was  dimly  conscious  that  Victoria  had  taken 
up  the  story,  that  she  was  saying  that  Paul  had  gone  with 
Armand,  and  that  somehow  the  chart  came  even  into  this. 

She  rose  and  steadied  herself  against  a  chair.  Her  first 
idea  was  to  get  to  Roger,  to  see  him  before  Billy  came.  She 
had  no  idea  that  the  origin  of  the  two  thousand  pounds  had 
been  cleared  up.  She  feared  Billy's  indignant  denial,  that 
his  repudiation  would  somehow  bring  the  truth  nearer  home. 

"  I  think,"  she  said  dully,  "  that  I  had  better  go  and  see 
what  Roger  is  doing." 

She  made  to  the  door,  opened  it  and  shut  it.  She  knew 
within  Aimee  was  speaking  again,  she  was  sure  that  the  girl 
was  saying  sympathetic  things  about  herself.  The  kindness 
only  seemed  to  add  to  her  pain.  She  went  dejectedly  along 
to  the  Chinese  Room.     Roger  was  there — alone — he  was 


304  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

poring  over  the  chart.  He  hardly  looked  up  when  she 
entered. 

Naomi  came  straight  up  to  him. 

"Roger,"  she  began,  "  do  you  know  Billy  is  coming?" 

He  understood  all  that  she  did  not  say. 

"  Dear,"  he  said,  "  I  was  mistaken.  Paul  sent  that  money 
to  Billy." 

"  Paul !  "  echoed  Naomi. 

She  sat  down  and  looked  at  her  husband  with  such  wild 
eyes  that  he  hastened  to  explain. 

"  It  requires  a  hard-headed  man  to  be  really  sentimental," 
he  began  with  one  of  his  rare  touches  of  geniality.  "  Paul 
was  in  trouble  with  his  conscience.  He'd  won,  and  Billy 
had  lost — Victoria." 

"  What  wonderful  things  some  men  will  do  for  love !  " 
Naomi  exclaimed. 

"  What  wonderful  things  most  men  might  do  if  all  wives 
were  like  you  !  "  Roger  returned. 

She  almost  shrank  from  him,  and  yet  it  was  so  rarely  now 
that  she  had  the  first  place  in  his  mind.  She  wanted  to  stay 
there  if  only  for  a  minute — for  half  a  minute.  She  tried  to 
smile. 

But  Roger  put  out  his  disengaged  hand.  He  drew  the 
chart  forward. 

"  Now,"  he  said,  "  if  you  can  only  remember  one  thing  at 
a  time,  let  us  put  that  down.     You  came  downstairs?" 

He  looked  up,  waiting  for  her  to  reply.  She  broke  from 
him.  "  No  !  no  !  no  !  "  she  protested.  "  Not  now.  I'm 
tired  " — and  then  Roger  lost  his  temper  and  his  patience. 

"  Tired !  You  are  not  trying  to  remember,"  he  exclaimed. 
"  I  don't  believe  you  want  to  try." 

"  Roger !  "  Naomi  gasped,  and  at  that  very  moment  Little- 
port  came  in  to  say  that  Mr.  Hirst  had  arrived  and  had  gone 
straight  to  the  Queen  Anne  room. 

The  next  day  Chi  Lung  was  due  to  arrive  at  Zouche, 
Roger  was  so  impatient  that  he  went  oflf  too  soon,  driving 
his  own  car,  to  meet  the  old  Chinaman. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  305 

Naomi  watched  him  go,  and  then  she  looked  round  to  find 
Victoria  beside  her. 

"  He  has  gone  at  least  half  an  hour  too  soon,"  Naomi 
began  with  a  hopeless  gesture. 

"  We  are  all  restless,"  Victoria  admitted — "  I  don't  be- 
lieve one  of  us  slept  soundly  last  night." 

Naomi  turned  from  the  hall  door.  She  went  along  the 
passage  and  looked  out  on  to  the  terrace.  She  said  she  must 
go  out,  but  first  she  must  have  a  hat,  she  would  go  upstairs 
to  get  it  herself,  and  then  once  downstairs  she  threw  it 
aside,  said  the  wind  was  too  cold,  and  suggested  that  Vic- 
toria come  with  her  into  the  salon. 

"  I  believe  there  are  shelves  of  beautiful  things  inside  the 
cabinets,"  she  began  feverishly.  "  Let  us  go  and  explore. 
You  know,"  and  she  laughed  drearily,  "  I  have  never  had 
time  to  look  round  in  my  own  home." 

Victoria  encouraged  the  idea.  It  would  give  Naomi  some- 
thing to  do.  It  might  even  occupy  her  mind,  for  it  was 
evident  that  suspense  or  excitement  were  working  on  her 
until  she  could  hardly  control  herself. 

"  If  Roger  isn't  cleared  soon  the  poor  thing  will  collapse," 
Paul's  wife  told  herself,  as  she  pushed  open  the  doors  into 
the  salon. 

'*  Try  the  big  cabinet  first,"  she  advised,  for  as 
it  happened  she  knew  a  good  deal  about  the  treasures 
there. 

Naomi  nodded.  She  went  swiftly  towards  the  tall  cabinet, 
with  its  black  doors  heavily  inlaid  with  golden  designs,  she 
turned  the  key  and  looked  within.  There  were  several 
covers  on  the  first  shelf  and  she  pulled  out  the  first  one  and 
opened  it.  It  contained  a  set  of  really  fine  old  paintings 
on  rice  paper.  For  a  little  the  beauty,  the  quaintness,  the 
wealth  of  color,  really  arrested  Naomi,  and  then  she 
paused,  with  one  of  the  thin  sheets  fluttering  in  her 
hand. 

"  Do  you  hear — anything?  "  she  asked. 

Instead  of  answering,  Victoria  went  to  the  one  window 
from  where  she  could  see  a  glimpse  of  the  drive.     She 


3o6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

waited  a  moment,  two.  She  had  caught  the  whirr  of  a 
motor  as  well.    It  came  nearer. 

"  Yes !  "  she  exclaimed,  as  Roger's  car  passed  across  the 
gap  she  was  watching — "  it  is  Roger." 

"  Has  he  anyone  with  him?  "  Naomi  broke  in. 

"  Chi  Lung,"  Victoria  answered. 

Naomi  bundled  the  rice  paintings  back  into  their  cover, 
she  hurried  to  Victoria,  and  hastily  she  opened  the  window. 

"  Come  with  me,"  she  gasped — "  come,"  and  then  seeing 
Victoria's  look  of  amazement  she  faltered,  "  I  feel  all  un- 
strung— I  must  have  time — to  get  myself  in  hand.  .  .  . 
Come  into  the  garden." 

She  seized  Victoria's  arm,  pushed  her  on  to  the  terrace, 
and  followed  herself. 

"  Listen !  "  she  whispered,  and  she  began  to  shake.  "  We 
were  only  just  out  of  the  room  in  time,"  and  both  she  and 
Victoria  heard  the  Chinaman's  voice  uplifted  in  a  kind  of 
invocation. 

"  Hope  of  the  house,  I  come  at  your  bidding,"  the  old  man 
was  saying. 

Naomi  clutched  on  to  Victoria  again,  she  pulled  Paul's 
wife  after  her,  and  Victoria,  startled,  almost  fearful  that 
Naomi  was  about  to  break  down,  her  panic  seemed  so 
unreasoning,  let  herself  be  hurried  into  the  bowling-green. 

The  two  women  had  hardly  left  the  terrace,  their  swift 
footfalls  were  still  audible,  when  Chi  Lung  entered  the 
salon. 

"  Naomi,"  began  Roger,  as  he  and  his  mother  followed 
quickly,  "  his  Excellency  has  come." 

He  stopped  short.  There  were  the  chairs  pushed  aside, 
the  half-open  cabinet.    All  the  signs  of  recent  occupation. 

"  Where  is  she?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  She  was  here  with  Victoria,"  answered  Lady  de  la  Haye, 
but  as  Roger  went  quickly  towards  the  window  with  a  vexed 
exclamation,  Chi  Lung  stopped  him. 

"  Women  and  sparrows  always  twitter  in  company,"  the 
old  man  announced, 

"  But  she  can't  have  gone  far,"  Roger  persisted ;  "  I  will 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  307 

go  and  look  for  her,"  and  with  a  muttered  word  of  excuse 
he  stepped  on  to  the  terrace. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  had  put  out  a  warning  hand,  but  Roger 
did  not  so  much  as  see  it,  and  now  she  looked  uneasily  at 
Chi  Lung. 

"  He  is  so  anxious,  your  Excellency,"  Amabelle  mur- 
mured. 

"  Nay !  "  retorted  the  old  man ;  "  Chi  Lung  is  old.  Youth 
pursues  the  butterfly.  But,"  and  he  looked  up,  with  a 
twinkling  of  malice  in  his  tired  eyes,  "  old  age  knows  that 
it  began  as  a  worm  and  will  end  in  a  hole  in  the  wall." 

"  Your  Excellency,"  protested  Amabelle  again,  "  he  has 
suffered  so  much." 

"  And,"  remarked  the  old  man,  "  whether  the  judgment 
is  just  or  unjust,  the  stick  is  equally  as  heavy  and  the  flesh 
no  less  tender." 

He  sank  down  on  to  a  sofa  and  permitted  himself  to  take 
snuff  in  the  Eastern  fashion,  a  circumstance  which  showed 
that  the  special  envoy  from  China  was  genuinely  perturbed, 
for  unless  he  wished  to  be  purposely  disconcerting  the  old 
man  rarely  offended  against  European  conventions. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  knew  this,  and  concluded  therefore  that 
Roger's  sufferings  had  made  a  deep  impression  on  her  old 
friend.  It  was  a  moment  she  had  hoped  for,  and  yet, 
knowing  Celestial  calm,  had  perhaps  hardly  expected. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  said,  as  she  seated  herself  be- 
fore him,  "  I  am  going  to  plead  for  Roger — for  the  son  of 
your  old  friend — is  he  not  almost  as  dear  to  you  as  if  he 
belonged  to  your  house?  " 

She  waited  a  moment,  and  Chi  Lung's  very  silence  gave 
her  courage. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  repeated,  "  if  you  can  help  us, 
do  not  delay,  do  not  procrastinate.  We  put  all  our  hopes 
in  you,  all  our  trust.    I  beg  you,  I  implore  you." 

The  old  man  rose  with  an  abrupt  movement. 

"  Peace !  "  he  returned  ;  but  his  voice  was  no  longer  hard, 
it  was  mellow.  "  Peace,"  he  went  on.  "  These  old  ears 
may  not  listen  to  such  words.    Does  the  judge  say  to  the 


3o8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

debtor,  And  if  it  please  you,  pay  what  you  owe?    Reflect, 

0  wise  among  unwise,  even  as  the  old  Buddha  is  exalted 
above  her  sex — on  whose  head  is  the  obligation  to  repay?" 
and  then  answering  his  own  question,  the  old  man  added, 
"  Chi  Lung  has  a  debt  to  pay,  and  you  ask  him  for  a 
gift." 

"A  gift!"  echoed  Amabelle,  her  face  flushed.  "Then 
you  can  help  us — you  will,"  she  exclaimed. 

She  turned  as  she  spoke,  the  indication  of  a  frown  on  her 
forehead.  Roger  was  entering  the  room,  he  had  Naomi 
with  him,  and  advisable  as  Amabelle  knew  it  to  be  that 
Roger's  wife  should  welcome  the  old  Celestial,  she  wished 
their  arrival  had  been  delayed  a  few  minutes.  The  white- 
haired  woman  felt  that  she  had  been  on  the  point  of  hearing 
something.  Chi  Lung  had  been  receptive,  benign,  and  now, 
as  Naomi  came  forward,  pale,  cold  and  distant,  with  an  air 
which  might  be  construed  to  betoken  resentment,  but  which 
was  really  the  paralysis  of  fear,  Amabelle  saw  the  mask 
drawn  once  again  over  the  wrinkled  yellow  face. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  Roger  began,  "  my  wife  is  as  de- 
lighted to  welcome  you  as  I  am.  It  was  concern  for  me 
that  drove  her  into  the  garden,  but  she  returns  as  soon  as 
she  learns  that  your  Excellency's  foot  has  stepped  over  our 
threshold." 

"  So,"  murmured  the  old  man,  and  though  he  was  gen- 
erally chary  about  shaking  hands  with  a  woman,  he  put  out 
his  hand  now.  Naomi  could  but  put  her  white  fingers  into 
the  yellow  claw-like  ones.  She  made  an  attempt  to  speak, 
but  not  a  sound  would  pass  her  blue  lips. 

"  The  warmth  of  her  welcome  does  too  much  honor  to 
this  worthless  one,"  the  old  man  announced.  He  laid  his 
other  hand  over  hers.    "  It  is  strange,"  he  said.    "  This  that 

1  hold  is  as  a  ball  of  ice  from  the  Great  Mountains." 

He  looked  up  and  caught  Naomi's  glanced  fixed  on  him. 
"  The  hand  of  the  weak  partner  of  Roger  makes  snow  in 
my  palm,"  his  Excellency  went  on.  "  It  reminds  me  of  a 
courteous  punishment  of  my  country.  When  a  mandarin 
is  invited  to  confess  and  his  tongue  is  obstinately  still  in 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  309 

his  head,  then  we  take  his  hand,  and  lay  it  in  a  wedge  of  ice, 
and  then  we  close  the  hand  tighter  and  tighter,  until  the 
high-placed  one  grows  tired  of  life  and  prays  for  a  death 
which  will  not  hurry." 

Naomi  gave  a  little  gasp,  she  swayed.  She  looked  so 
fearfully  behind  her  that  Lady  de  la  Haye  stepped  forward 
and  put  her  arm  round  the  girl.  She  could  not  understand 
how  it  came  or  why,  but  she  saw  that  there  was  a  new 
animosity,  a  fresh  antagonism, 

"  Naomi  dear,  what  is  it?  "  she  whispered  urgently. 

"  Nothing,  nothing !  "  Roger's  wife  murmured. 

She  freed  herself,  stood  upright.  She  rallied  all  her 
courage,  and  forced  herself  to  turn  on  the  old  man. 

"  Your  Excellency  has  come  to  help  Roger,"  she  asked — 
she  looked  swiftly  at  him.  "  What  news  do  you  bring 
Roger  ?  "  she  challenged. 

"  The  well  of  Fate  is  so  deep  that  this  poor  worm  has 
drawn  no  words  from  the  waters  of  truthfulness — as  yet," 
his  Excellency  replied. 

"  But,"  cried  out  Roger,  "  his  Excellency  hopes  for  en- 
lightenment.    He  is  as  confident  as  I  am " 

The  old  man  cut  him  short. 

"  My  son,"  he  said,  "  there  is  always  one  way  to  the  open 
door,  but  sometimes  it  is  guarded  by  a  fierce  dragon,  and," 
he  went  on  aggressively,  "  he  who  invokes  the  demons 
sometimes  sees  the  Devil  for  his  pains." 

"  But,"  put  in  Amabelle,  who  felt  that  the  old  man  was 
escaping  them  again,  "  there  is  always  good  to  put  evil  to 
flight.  The  trouble  is  our  poor  eyes  take  dross  for  gold. 
We  know  the  gold  now,  and  we  rely  on  your  Excellency." 

A  moment's  silence  followed  this  direct  appeal.  The  old 
Chinaman  made  no  attempt  at  deprecation.  He  looked  from 
Roger  to  Naomi  and  back  at  Amabelle,  and  then  he  drew  up 
to  his  old  friend's  widow. 

"  The  flowering  of  the  peach  blossom  has  passed  its 
prime,"  he  remarked,  utterly  indififerent  as  to  whether 
Naomi  heard  or  not. 

"  You  notice  that  Naomi  is  looking  tired,"  Lady  de  la 


310  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Haye  said ;  she  glanced  at  the  girl,  at  Roger.  Her  diplomatic 
tact  had  always  been  remarkable,  and  so  now  her  one  wish 
was  to  get  them  out  of  the  room.  She  was  sure  that  she 
could  best  serve  Roger  in  his  absence. 

"  Take  Naomi  to  rest,"  she  said  significantly. 
Roger  understood,  Naomi  was  only  too  thankful  for  a 
few  moments'  respite.    The  door  closed  on  them  and  then 
Amabelle  turned  back  to  the  old  Chinaman. 

"  So  you  notice  how  ill  Naomi  is  looking,"  she  began. 
"  Poor  child,"  she  went  on,  "  the  strain  is  almost  more  than 
she  can  bear.  I  believe  she  suffers  even  more  than  Roger; 
I  was  shocked  when  I  saw  her  yesterday." 

The  old  man  muttered  something  into  his  thin  beard. 
"  You  must  agree  with  me  that  she  looks  sadly  worn," 
Amabelle  urged. 

"  N'importe,"  retorted  his  Excellency  roughly. 
Pie  moved  a  step  away,  as  if  he  would  at  least  put  a  space 
— if  but  a  small  one — between  himself  and  something  par- 
ticularly foolish. 

"  Let  Roger  buy  himself  another  wife,"  he  suggested. 
"  The  first  time  a  man  would  pluck  a  flower  for  his  hearth, 
he  says,  '  Mother,  is  she  well-favored  ? '  but  when  he  would 
bring  in  a  pumpkin  to  live  by  the  lotus  flower,  he  says, 
'  Mother,  is  the  rice  soft  in  her  pot  when  it  comes  to  the 
feast?'" 

Amabelle  heard  the  hostility  in  the  slow  voice.  If  it  had 
been  an  ordinary  matter,  she  would  have  broken  off  the 
discussion  and  let  the  old  man  have  his  prejudice,  precisely 
because  it  was  an  unreasonable  one,  but  Chi  Lung's  attitude 
towards  Naomi  was  of  such  vital  importance  that  Amabelle 
determined  to  make  another  appeal  to  him. 

She  came  up  to  him.    She  seated  herself  by  him. 
"  Your  Excellency,"  she  said,  "  you  honor  virtue,  I  know. 
There  is  the  virtue  of  her  who  stays  by  the  hearth,  as  well 
as  of  him  who  learns  the  classics." 

She  stopped.  Chi  Lung  was  looking  at  her  sideways  and 
his  expression  was  not  benevolent.  She  felt  it  would  be 
difficult  to  win  admiration  where  tolerance  came  so  reluc- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  311 

tantly,  but  Amabelle  de  la  Haye  was  not  only  a  brave 
woman,  she  was  a  fair-minded  one. 

"  Naomi,"  she  went  on,  "  is  as  a  rose  in  my  garden.  She 
is  as  sweet  perfume  to  my  senses." 

"  Why,"  thrust  in  Chi  Lung,  "  does  the  mother-in-law 
speak  honey  of  her  son's  wife?" 

"  Because  I  know  Naomi,"  Lady  de  la  Haye  answered, 
direct  enough  this  time.  She  put  a  hand  on  the  old  man's 
sleeve.  "  One  woman  knows  another,"  she  said,  "  that  is 
why  the  wise  always  judge  a  woman  by  the  women  of  whom 
she  makes  friends,  not  by  the  men.    I  know  Naomi  1  " 

"  Yet,"  interrupted  Chi  Lung,  "  when  the  shadow  was  cast 
before  the  happening " 

"  I  know,"  Amabelle  admitted,  "  I  was  doubtful,  very 
doubtful,  but  I  have  seen  what  she  has  been  to  Roger — 
what  she  has  done  for  him.  Your  Excellency,"  she  con- 
tinued, a  note  of  entreaty  in  her  voice.  "  Naomi  has  done 
for  Roger  what  neither  you  nor  I  could  do.  We  love  him 
better  than  ourselves — we  would  give  him  all  we  have." 

"  All  we  have,"  the  old  man  repeated. 

"  But  neither  of  us  could  have  helped  him  as  Naomi  has 
— she  alone  could  comfort  him — could  warm  him.  Youth 
goes  to  youth,  your  Excellency.  We  stand  on  the  outer 
circle,  we  look  on  and  suffer — only  Naomi  can  enter  into 
the  very  inmost  chamber  of  Roger's  life." 

The  old  man  was  silent.    His  head  was  bent. 

Amabelle  waited.  Without,  the  shrill  cry  of  a  homing 
bird  was  the  one  note  which  broke  the  stillness. 

Chi  Lung's  old  back  relaxed  yet  more.  His  chin  almost 
touched  his  chest. 

Amabelle  knew  that  this  very  speechlessness  made  for 
hope.  If  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  had  meant  to  reject  her 
appeal,  he  would  have  done  so  at  once. 

She  rose,  stood  before  him,  and  held  out  her  hands. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  said,  "  is  it  not  written  in  your 
own  book  that  only  he  is  wise  who  knows  the  truth  when 
he  hears  it,  and  hearing  it,  gives  heed?" 

Chi  Lung  rose  to  his  feet  quickly. 


312  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

" Bueno!"  he  exclaimed,  "more  than  once  has  the  Lord 
of  Wisdom  deigned  to  speak  by  the  mouth  of  a  woman." 

Amabelle  caught  her  breath,  she  had  won.  She  had  ac- 
compHshed  this  great  thing  for  Roger.  She  had  made  his 
Excellency  see  that  Naomi  was  essential  to  her  son's  happi- 
ness. 

It  took  her  a  moment  to  recover  her  self-possession,  and 
when  she  looked  again  at  her  old  friend  she  was  struck  by 
his  attitude. 

The  Marquis  Chi  Lung  was  still  standing  in  the  same 
place,  but  for  once  the  yellowed  old  face  had  lost  all  its 
impassivity.    The  old  Chinaman  looked  frankly  perplexed. 

"  What  is  it?  "  demanded  Amabelle. 

Chi  Lung  did  not  move.  He  probably  did  not  even  hear 
the  question.  A  new  thought  had  just  struck  him.  He 
remembered  that  kindness  is  never  fully  acceptable  save 
when  it  comes  in  the  precise  form  the  recipient  would 
choose  it.  What  profit  would  there  be  to  Roger  in  clearing 
him  but  to  plunge  him  into  deeper  grief  ? 

Amabelle  watched  him  intently. 

The  old  man  seemed  to  pause  again,  to  consider.  There 
was  silence  in  the  room,  until  the  throbbing  of  another 
motor  engine  came  in  to  them. 

"  It  must  be  Armand  bringing  Billy,"  Amabelle  mur- 
mured. 

She  meant  that  now  the  assembly  was  complete,  that  now 
there  only  remained  the  actual  comparison  of  the  chart,  the 
facts  it  might  elicit,  above  all  the  information  his  Excellency 
must  have  to  give. 

To  Chi  Lung  it  meant  such  a  very  dififerent  thing. 

He  came  up  to  her,  looked  fixedly  at  her. 

"  Behold !  "  he  said,  "  we  say  we  will  turn  the  river  to 
the  north,  and  lo !  One  wiser  than  we  says  it  must  flow  to 
the  south." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

Half  an  hour  later  Roger  sent  Littleport  to  tell  each  guest 
individually  that  his  or  her  presence  was  requested  in  the 
Chinese  writing-room. 

Roger  and  Naomi  were  there  already.  There  was  sup- 
pressed excitement  in  the  whole  of  Roger's  bearing.  Fever- 
ishly he  moved  about  the  room,  he  said  the  sun  came  in  and 
pulled  down  the  blind,  only  to  run  it  up  again  impatiently 
the  next  moment.  He  went  to  the  desk,  he  pushed  aside 
the  sheet  of  scribbling  paper  he  himself  had  laid  on  the  top 
of  the  chart,  with  a  testy  word,  and  then  he  bent  over  the 
chart  and  studied  it  anew. 

Naomi  watched  him  in  silence.  She  shivered  and  her 
fingers  worked  nervously.  Should  she  tell  Roger  herself, 
now — quickly — before  the  others  came,  before  the  old  China- 
man denounced  her?  Suppose  when  it  came  to  it  Roger 
cared  more  for  his  vindication  than  for  her.  She  must  make 
quite  sure.  She  went  up  to  him  quickly,  put  her  hand  on 
his  shoulder.  "  Roger !  "  she  murmured.  He  did  not  look 
up,  though  he  answered,  "  Yes,  dear?  " 

"  Roger,  do  you  still  .   .   .  love  .   .   .  me  ?  " 

Something  in  her  tone  roused  him.  He  turned  quickly 
and  looked  at  her. 

"  Naomi ! !  Of  course  I  do."  He  took  her  hands  and 
drew  her  to  him.    "  Dear,  why  do  you  ask?  " 

"  Because  I  ...  I  feel  that  today  is  going  to  be  one 
of  the  test  days  of  our  lives,"  she  faltered. 

"  Naomi,  I  feel  that  too,"  he  exclaimed.  "  Perhaps  .  .  . 
it  is  the  lifting  of  this  shadow — my  vindication!  I  shall 
never  know  a  moment's  happiness  until  I  am  cleared." 

"  Then !  "  faltered  Naomi,  "  I— I— don't  make  up  in  any 
way.    I  don't  count." 

"  You  do  count,"  Roger  protested.     He  took  her  hands, 

313 


314  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

he  held  them  both  against  his  chest,  pressed  his  own  upon 
them.  "  You  do  count,"  he  repeated  vehemently — "  I  love 
you.  I  love  you  before  everything,  and  when  I  see  you 
suffer  it  makes  things  ten  times  worse  for  me." 

Naomi  had  asked  for  an  explicit  statement.  She  had 
received  it.  She  was  still  the  first  consideration  to  her  hus- 
band— but  she  let  that  pass.  She  fastened  on  the  admission 
that  she  was  hurting  him  in  a  new  way.  Again  what  was  best 
in  her  turned  against  her.  Even  remorse  was  a  two-edged 
sword,  and  if  one  edge  cut  herself,  the  other  wounded  him. 

"  Don't,"  she  protested,  "  don't  be  hurt  for  me.  Don't  be 
sorry  for  me.  I  want  to  suffer  too.  I  am  glad  of  every 
pang." 

And  the  man  who  heard  her  bent  his  head  reverently. 
He  thought  that  she  meant  that  he  and  she  were  so  much 
one,  that  she  would  rather  go  along  the  road  to  Calvary 
with  him  than  down  the  pleasant  way  by  herself.  He  put 
his  arms  about  her,  he  held  her  close.  If  there  had  been 
any  reticence,  any  withdrawing,  that  was  past.  Out  of 
the  very  fullness  of  his  heart  Roger  protested  quickly  and 
vehemently  that  Naomi  had  been  his  own  support,  the  one 
light  star  in  his  darkened  sky,  that  without  her  he  couldn't 
have  endured.  "  If  I  didn't  believe  in  you,  worship  you,  I 
should  have  ended  myself  long  before  this,"  he  assured  her. 

They  were  so  occupied  one  with  the  other,  that  neither  of 
them  had  heard  the  door  open  stealthily,  that  neither  of 
them  knew  that  Chi  Lung  had  glided  into  the  room,  that 
he  was  standing  there,  eavesdropping  shamelessly.  The  old 
man  had  learned  that  Roger  and  his  wife  were  alone,  he 
had  heard  the  murmur  of  their  voices.  He  knew  that  at 
such  a  moment,  with  the  chart  and  all  it  implied  imminent 
before  them,  whatever  they  were  saying  must  have  its  sig- 
nificance. It  would  define  the  exact,  not  the  accepted  posi- 
tion of  Naomi  in  Roger's  life.  The  old  Chinaman,  withheld 
by  no  scruples,  would  hear  with  his  own  ears,  would  see  with 
his  own  eyes. 

Every  word,  every  action  confirmed  Lady  de  la  Haye's 
testimony.     His   dead   friend's   vi^idow  had   spoken  truly. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  315 

Naomi's  love  was  as  necessary  to  Roger's  happiness  as  his 
vindication. 

"  Each  gambler  backs  his  own  dice,"  declared  his  Excel- 
lency aloud,  "  each  priest  upholds  his  own  shrine,"  and  when 
Naomi  and  Roger  turned,  not  a  little  startled,  the  old  man 
looked  from  one  to  the  other  of  them,  tucked  his  hands  into 
his  sleeves,  and  remarked,  "  He  who  learns  unawares,  di- 
gests facts,  not  compliments." 

"  I  never  heard  your  Excellency  come  in,"  Roger  pro- 
tested, not  a  little  annoyed  to  think  that  his  moment  of 
expansiveness  had  had  its  witness ;  as  for  Naomi  she  slipped 
aside  and  backed  down  by  the  fireplace.  For  the  moment 
Chi  Lung  seemed  to  have  forgotten  her. 

"  My  son,"  said  the  old  man,  "  I  looked  for  the  crows, 
the  owl,  and  maybe  the  cuckoo,  and  lo !  I  found  but  the 
dove  and  her  mate." 

"  The  others  will  be  here  directly,"  Roger  answered. 
"  Littleport  has  gone  to  tell  them  all." 

He  had  hardly  said  that  before  Billy  Hirst  came  in.  He 
and  Roger  had  had  a  few  words  apart,  and  the  result  of  an 
embarrassed  explanation  on  Roger's  part  was  that  no  one 
was  more  eager  to  help  him  than  Billy.  It  seemed  to  that 
erratic  wanderer,  who  was  at  heart  one  of  the  most  generous 
of  men,  that  if  Roger  could  imagine  such  a  possibility  of  a 
friend  then,  indeed,  he  must  be  so  driven  that  he  required 
all  the  help  that  friend  in  particular  could  give  him. 

The  others  followed  quickly,  and  with  them  came  Carson 
the  detective.  Naomi  heard  the  door  open  and  shut,  but  she 
hardly  realized  who  entered.  Her  eyes,  her  mind  were  fixed 
on  the  old  Chinaman.  He  had  settled  himself  in  a  big  arm- 
chair, his  hands  were  clasped,  his  eyes  were  blinking,  but 
she  felt  that  he  was  waiting,  watching — for  what? 

The  girl  rocked  and  clutched  on  to  the  mantelpiece.  Was 
her  enemy  going  to  speak  now,  before  the  inquisition  began, 
or  would  he  let  the  farce  go  on  and  speak  in  his  own  good 
time?  She  swayed  slightly,  gasped.  She  must,  she  would 
keep  still,  yet  a  touch  on  her  arm  so  startled  her,  that  she 
sprang  aside  as  if  she  expected  a  blow. 


3i6  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Naomi  dear,  what  is  it?  "  Amabelle  asked  anxiously,  but 
Roger's  wife  looked  not  at  Roger's  mother,  but  to  that  little 
neutral-tinted  man,  who  had  seated  himself  by  the  table,  and 
she  knew,  for  her  wits  were  sharpened  by  terror,  that  her 
start,  her  exclamation  had  not  gone  unmarked  by  the 
detective. 

All  the  same,  when  someone  indicated  that  she  should 
move  up  nearer  the  table,  she  walked  quietly,  firmly  to  the 
appointed  seat. 

The  guests  were  all  arranged  in  a  semicircle,  save  Chi 
Lung,  and  he  sat  in  the  great  armchair  at  the  end  of  the 
desk,  as  if,  when  it  came  to  it,  he,  and  he  alone,  had  the 
right  to  the  place  of  a  judge.  Carson  was  at  the  writing- 
table,  Roger  was  standing  up  beside  him.  Naomi  had 
Amabelle  on  the  one  hand,  Victoria  at  the  other  side. 

Then  there  followed  a  moment's  silence.  Everyone  re- 
mained stock-still,  as  if  they  were  all  marionettes  who  had 
simultaneously  lost  their  strings.  There  was  not  a  cough, 
not  so  much  as  the  rustle  of  a  woman's  skirts.  It  was  not 
until  the  silence  was  growing  almost  unbearable  that  Roger 
began  to  speak. 

"  My  friends,"  he  said,  "  I  believe  that  not  one  of  you 
would  do  or  lend  your  help  to  such  a  piece  of  dishonor, 
of  treachery  "  (Naomi  winced  at  his  words).  "  But  because 
you  are  innocent,  I  know  you  will  help  me  as  much  as  you 
can.  As  you  all  know,  the  facts  of  the  case  as  far  as  we  have 
learned  them  are  this : — The  contents  of  the  memorandum 
were  stolen  somehow,  and  sold  to  the  press  by  a  scoundrel 
called  Hermann  Strum.  The  terms  of  the  agreement  were 
made  public  twelve  hours  after  the  document  had  been 
signed  in  this  very  room.  Mr.  Carson  here  has  made  care- 
ful investigations  and  is  convinced  that  the  accomplice,  he 
who  copied  the  memorandum,  was  someone  inside  the  house. 
Now,  the  object  of  this  chart  is  to  ascertain  the  exact  move- 
ments of  each  person  during  the  whole  of  that  afternoon 
and  evening,  and  we  hope  by  doing  this  to  light  upon  some 
clue  which  will  eventually  help  us  to  discover  the  culprit. 
Mr.   Carson  and  his   men  have   already   fiTed   in   all   the 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  317 

columns  relating  to  the  servants  and  other  inmates  of  the 
house." 

"  I  take  it  that  narrows  it  to  one  of  us,"  said  Billy 
drily. 

"  No,  no,"  said  Roger,  "  I  wouldn't  suggest " 

"  Oh,  don't  apologize.  You  can't  afford  to  be  polite  at 
this  stage,"  commented  Billy.     "  I  don't  mind  personally 

being  among  the  '  suspects  ' "    He  looked  up  and  passed 

on  his  assertion  with  a  gesture. 

"  Ma  foi!  non — non — nonplus.  .  .  .  My  horrible  past  is 
open  to  all,"  declared  Armand. 

"  Exactly  what  I  think,"  said  Paul.  "  We're  all  of  us 
here  for  one  thing  only — to  see  you  cleared,  Roger." 

Roger  thanked  them  briefly.  So  far  so  good.  Carson's 
eyes  had  slowly  traveled  from  face  to  face  while  these  pre- 
liminaries had  taken  place,  and  he  made  a  note  of  the  fact 
that  Chi  Lung  had  said  nothing  in  answer  to  Roger's  appeal 
and  apology. 

"  Sir  Roger,"  he  said,  "  will  you  please  tell  us  exactly 
what  happened  after  the  memorandum  had  been  signed?" 
"  The  memorandum  in  Chinese  characters  was  put  into 
this  drawer,"  Roger  answered,  and  he  pulled  open  a  drawer 
in  the  Chinese  desk.  "  His  Excellency  can  testify  that  he 
laid  it  in  there  himself,  and  Mr.  Marketel  that  he  saw  it 
put  there." 

"  That  is  correct,"  confirmed  Paul. 
The  Oriental  was  not  so  direct,  but  equally  affirmative. 
"  This  hand  may  be  the  hand  of  him  with  wearied  veins 
and  tired  sinews,"  he  said;  "  none  the  less  it  can  do  its  duty 
yet,  and  it  neither  dropped  the  paper  on  the  floor  nor  left 
it  lying  on  the  table." 

Carson  turned  again  to  Roger. 
"And  then?" 

"  I  turned  the  lock  and  put  the  key  into  my  pocket,  but 
as  I  have  told  you  already  the  spring  may  not  have  worked, 
the  drawer  may  have  been  unlocked  all  the  while;  but 
thinking  it  was  secured,  I  left  the  room  by  the  garden  door," 
and  he  pointed  to  the  door  in  question  as  he  spoke. 


3i8  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Did  anyone  lock  the  door  after  you  ?  "  asked  Carson. 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Marketel  did." 

Carson  looked  at  Paul,  who  nodded. 

"  What  did  you  do  then,  Sir  Roger?  " 

"  I  cut  across  to  my  motor  which  was  waiting  by  Water 
Lane  and  came  up  the  drive  to  the  front.  I  wanted  to 
suggest  that  I  had  not  been  near  the  house  during  the  last 
half-hour." 

"  Quite  so.  And  you,  Mr.  Marketel,  what  did  you  do 
with  the  key  after  you  had  locked  the  door  ?  " 

"  I  left  it  turned  in  the  lock."  Then,  as  he  guessed  what 
the  detective  was  aiming  at,  Paul  added  emphatically,  "  It 
certainly  was  not  tampered  with.  We  examined  it  after- 
wards." 

"  That  does  away  with  the  possibility  that  some  stranger 
might  have  got  in  with  a  duplicate  key  after  you  had  left," 
Carson  decided.  "  What  about  that  door  ? "  And  he 
pointed  towards  the  door  leading  into  the  salon. 

"  When  his  Excellency  and  I  went  out,  his  Excellency 
locked  it  and  took  the  key  away  in  his  sleeve,"  answered 
Paul. 

"  So  I  understood,"  said  Carson,  "  but,"  and  he  dropped 
his  words  out  slowly,  "  will  it  surprise  you  to  hear  that  the 
keys  of  the  two  doors  of  the  salon  are  duplicates  ?  " 

"  It  does  surprise  me,"  Paul  answered.  He  saw  all  the 
possibilities  the  fact  opened  up.  "  But,"  he  asked,  "  taking 
it  for  granted  that  the  thief  knew  what  I  did  not,  and  I 
am  an  old  habitue  of  the  house,  taking  it  for  granted  that 
he  used  the  duplicate  key,  when  did  he  get  in  to  do  it  ?  " 

"Shall  we  say  directly  after  you  left?"  answered  the 
detective  smoothly. 

"  That's  impossible,"  dissented  Roger.  "  No  stranger 
could  have  entered  the  house  unseen." 

"  Was  there  anyone  in  the  salon  when  you  and  his  Excel- 
lency came  out,  Mr.  Marketel?"  asked  Carson,  shifting  the 
ground  of  inquiry,  as  Roger  supposed,  and  he  looked  first 
at  Paul,  and  then  at  Chi  Lung. 

"  No  one  as  far  as  I  saw,"  answered  Paul  promptly. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  319 

"  Your  Excellency  ?  " 

"  My  old  eyes  found  nothing  to  disturb  their  serenity," 
Chi  Lung  muttered. 

Carson  nodded  to  himself.    He  looked  down  at  the  chart. 

"  I  see  tea  was  served  on  the  terrace,"  he  commented.  He 
raised  himself  quickly. 

"  Was  everyone  there  ?  "  he  asked,  fixing  his  glance  on 
Amabelle. 

"  All  but  those  whose  movements  you  have  investigated 
already,"  she  said. 

"No!  no!  pardon!"  interjected  Armand.  "You  forget. 
When  Roger  go  from  tea  I  follow  to  oflfer  him  my  motor." 

"And  Sir  Roger  refused?"  Carson  asked. 

"  He  told  me  he  prefer  his  own,"  the  little  man  answered. 

"  Then  you  went  directly  back  on  to  the  terrace  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  Armand. 

"  Please  explain  what  you  did  next  ?  "  the  detective  asked. 

Armand  drew  back  a  pace.  He  felt  as  if  he  were  being 
dragged  to  a  given  point — and  he  did  not  like  the  sensation. 

"  Ma  foi,  Monsieur,"  he  said,  "  I  know  nothing  that  will 
help  you." 

Carson  smiled  amicably.  This  witness  might  be  useful  as 
a  witness,  but  he  was  certainly  in  no  way  actively  concerned. 
His  very  recalcitrance  proved  that. 

"  But  you  have  not  told  me  where  you  went  when  Sir 
Roger  would  not  accept  your  oflFer,"  the  detective  persisted. 

"  Ma  foi,  Monsieur,"  the  little  man  retorted,  "  I  stay 
there." 

"In  the  salon?" 

" Parfaitemcnt,  yes!  " 

"How  long?" 

The  Frenchman  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  Vingt  minutes!  a  half-hour  perhaps." 

"  You  would  have  seen  anyone  who  came  in  either  by  the 
window  or  the  door  ?  " 

"  Certainly." 

"  Could  anyone  have  been  hiding  in  the  room  ?  "  Carson 
continued. 


320  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Hiding !  "  exclaimed  Paul  Marketel. 

"  Behind  the  curtains,  for  instance,"  the  detective  ex- 
plained. 

"  No !  no !  "  returned  Armand,  "  no  one  was  behind  the 
curtains." 

"  You  are  sure  ?  " 

"  Positive." 

"  Positive,  why  ?  " 

"  Because  I  moved  them." 

"  You  moved  the  curtains  ?  " 

"  Bien  sur.  For  the  light.  To  have  all  the  light  for  the 
work." 

"  Work !    What  work?  "  demanded  the  detective  sharply. 

Roger  stepped  a  pace  forward.  The  flush  was  upon  his 
face,  his  eyes  were  unnaturally  bright.  He  saw  that  Carson 
seemed  to  consider  that  he  was  getting  at  an  important 
point.  All  the  others  saw  it  too.  The  strain  was  so  tense 
that  it  hurt  as  if  it  had  been  physical  pain,  and  Naomi, 
unable  to  sit  still,  pushed  her  chair  back  out  of  the  circle 
and  rose. 

The  detective  repeated  his  question,  and  Armand  liked  his 
tone  even  less  than  before. 

"  Work,"  the  Frenchman  echoed  shortly — "  the  photo- 
graphs, of  course." 

"  Photographs,"  began  Roger. 

But  Carson  brought  his  hand  down  on  the  table  with  a 
rap. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,"  he  observed,  addressing  the 
assembly,  "there  is  nothing  of  which  you  cannot  take  a 
copy  with  a  camera." 

"  But,"  objected  Armand,  springing  forward,  and  seeing 
all  the  detective  implied — "  Par  cxemple!  You  do  not  think 
that  I " 

"  My  good  Sir,"  returned  the  detective  soothingly,  "  don't 
run  away  with  the  idea  that  this  is  any  reflection  on  you. 
You  are  innocent.     I'll  stake  my  word  on  that." 

"  Thank  you,"  retorted  Armand,  still  unmollified. 

"  But  don't  you  see,"  the  detective  went  on,  "  that  this  is 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  321 

a  point  of  vital  importance?  You  were  taking  photographs 
—of  what?" 

"  Of  the  room.    The  chinoiserie." 

"Alone?" 

"  Ahsolument." 

A  less  experienced  man  would  have  been  content  with 
the  assertion  and  passed  on  to  the  next  point.  But  Carson 
knew  that  nineteen  times  out  of  twenty  an  excitable  witness 
amplifies  out  of  sheer  inability  to  keep  still ;  and  the  amplifi- 
cation is  apt  to  be  more  enlightening  than  the  state- 
ment. Precisely  what  the  detective  had  foreseen  occurred 
now. 

"Ahsolument !  we  two — alone,"  repeated  Armand. 

"  Two !  "  rapped  out  Harold  Carson,  pouncing  on  that  one 
word — "Two!    Who  was  the  other?" 

The  moment  the  words  had  passed  his  lips,  Armand  saw 
what  he  had  done.    He  had  implicated  Naomi. 

"  I  regret,"  he  began — "  I  can  say  no  more." 

Naomi  herself  stepped  forward.  She  knew  the  move- 
ment directed  all  eyes  on  her,  she  heard  the  little  stir  as 
each  individual  altered  his  or  her  position  to  have  a  better 
view  of  her,  but  she  only  looked  in  one  direction.  She  saw 
that  his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  seemed  as  im- 
passive as  ever.  The  farce  was  to  go  on  yet  farther,  then. 
Perhaps  the  old  man  was  waiting  for  her  to  incriminate 
herself.  She  all  but  put  up  her  hand  and  pointed  to  the 
bent,  huddled  figure,  she  all  but  cried  out,  "  Ask  him,  he 
knows  everything."  Then  that  instinct  of  self-preservation 
intervened.  Did  the  old  Chinaman  know  as  much  as  he 
pretended?  she  asked  herself.  H  she  were  adroit  enough 
could  she  not  save  herself  both  from  him  and  from  Harold 
Carson  ? 

She  pressed  one  hand  to  her  side,  she  began  to  walk 
towards  the  table.  She  was  going  along  quite  steadily,  she 
told  herself,  and  she  almost  laughed  at  that.  She  kept  on 
with  her  eyes  carefully  fixed  before  her.  She  did  not  wish 
to  look  into  any  face ;  above  all.  if  she  were  to  give  herself 
a  chance,  she  must  not  see  Roger's  eyes. 


322  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

She  paused  before  the  desk  near  enough  to  put  out  her 
hand  and  touch  it. 

"  I  was  in  the  second  salon  with  Monsieur  de  Roche- 
corbon,"  she  announced.  "  We  were  taking  photographs 
together." 

"  You !  you !  "  gasped  Roger. 

Carson  passed  his  hand  once,  twice  over  his  face.  His 
experience  had  taught  him  again  and  again  that  truth  is 
stranger  than  fiction,  but  surely  here  he  was  coming  on  a 
well-nigh  incredible  thing — still,  all  along,  ever  since  he  had 
heard  of  Mrs.  Melsham,  ever  since  he  had  seen  Naomi,  just 
this  possibility  had  insisted  on  presenting  itself. 

"  But  why  were  you  taking  photographs  ? "  Roger 
went  on. 

"  For  my  book.  We  were  using  my  kodak,"  Naomi 
answered,  and  she  turned  a  little  to  her  husband.  "  You 
remember,"  she  jerked  out,  "you  promised  to  help  me  to 
take  some  of  those  Canton  enamels." 

"  Yes  !  "  Roger  admitted.    "  I  do  recollect — something." 

"  Have  you  that  kodak  now.  Lady  de  la  Haye  ?  "  Carson 
broke  in. 

"  No,"  answered  Naomi  shortly. 

"  What  has  become  of  it  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Let  us  go  back  to  the  photographs,"  the  detective  sug- 
gested suavely.  "  When  you  had  finished  taking  them  what 
did  you  do  with  the  camera?  " 

"  I  tell  you  I  don't  know,"  Naomi  reiterated. 

"  Think,"  insinuated  the  detective  softly. 

"  I  can't  think,"  Naomi  protested. 

She  looked  to  right,  to  left  as  a  hunted  rabbit  seeks  for  a 
hole,  and  then  Victoria  rose. 

"  I  can  help  Lady  de  la  Haye,  Mr.  Carson,"  she  said,  and 
her  tone  was  a  protest.  She  slipped  her  hand  into  Naomi's 
arm.  "  Don't  you  remember,  dear,"  she  asked  soothingly, 
"  that  night  you  walked  in  your  sleep?  You  had  the  cover 
of  a  kodak  in  your  hand." 

"  Had  I  ?     Did  I  ?     Yes !     I  suppose  so — yes,"  Naomi 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  323 

mumbled.     She  jerked  herself  free  from  Victoria's  hand; 
she  began  to  tremble,  her  lips  twitched. 

Carson  saw  all  the  signs  of  distress,  and  the  odd  man  was 
really  moved  by  them.  If  it  had  depended  on  Harold 
Carson,  the  individual,  he  would  have  terminated  the  in- 
quiry then  and  there,  but  since  it  concerned  Harold  Carson, 
the  detective,  he  was  prepared  to  pursue  the  investigation  to 
the  bitter  end. 

"  Did  you  print  any  of  the  photographs  you  took  on  this 
occasion  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No !  No !  They  were  never  printed,  the  films  were  all 
useless,"  protested  Naomi  feverishly,  and  her  clenched 
hands  emphasized  her  words. 

"  Have  you  any  of  them  now?  " 

"  No,  no,  no." 

"  How  many  did  you  take?  "  went  on  the  relentless  voice. 

Again  the  trembling  hands  went  to  her  head  and  she 
pushed  back  the  heavy  golden  hair.  "  I — I — don't — remem- 
ber," she  muttered. 

Paul  bent  towards  her  persuasively. 

"  Try  to  think,  Naomi,"  he  said  encouragingly.  "  Kodak 
films  are  twelve  on  a  roll.    Did  you  finish  the  roll  ?  " 

"  No,  no— I  think  not." 

"  What  made  you  stop?  " 

"  I — I "  Naomi  stuttered,  and  everyone  present  was 

conscious  how  she  struggled  for  expression — or  for  repres- 
sion. 

Amabelle  rose  to  move  to  her  daughter-in-law. 

"  Must  this  go  on?"  she  was  about  to  say  to  the  detec- 
tive, when  old  Chi  Lung  bent  forward  and  touched  her 
arm. 

"  When  the  Yellow  River  is  in  flood,  the  strongest  junk 
is  torn  from  its  anchor,"  he  warned  her. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  pulled  up.  Silently  she  turned  to  the 
old  man,  but  Naomi  began  to  speak  again. 

"  Littleport  came  in  to  say  my  mother  was  here,"  she 
made  herself  explain. 

"  There ! "   broke   in   Roger,   and   in   his   excitement  he 


324  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

passed  round  the  table  and  stood  close  by  his  wife — "  there ! 
Don't  you  see?  We  have  it  now.  The  camera  was  left  in 
the  room.  Someone  used  it  while  she  was  talking  to  her 
mother." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  broke  in  Naomi.  A  gleam  of  hope  came  into 
her  eyes.  If  this  passed,  if  this  was  recorded  on  the  chart, 
then  indeed  she  might  have  a  chance  of  escape.  Involun- 
tarily she  looked  at  Armand  de  Rochecorbon.  The  glance 
puzzled  the  little  man,  but  he  answered  it  promptly. 

"  I  left  the  room  to  answer  my  letters — I  did  not  see  the 
camera  again." 

A  sigh  of  relief  fluttered  from  Naomi's  lips,  but  it  was 
hardly  on  its  way  before  the  golden-haired  woman  drew 
back  on  herself  again. 

"  Dear !  "  amended  Amabelle,  "  you  forget.  You  are 
making  a  mistake.  Don't  you  recollect?  You  did  not  go 
to  your  mother.    She  came  to  you  in  the  salon." 

Roger's  wife  looked  back  speechless.  All  the  other  occu- 
pants of  the  room  were  watching,  waiting.  She  opened  her 
lips,  and  shut  them  again.  She  was  telling  herself  that  the 
little  man  with  the  penetrating  eyes  and  neutral  air  would 
take  up  Lady  de  la  Haye's  assertion,  he  would  find  out  the 
exact  moment  her  mother  was  shown  into  the  salon ;  there 
must  come  the  question  where  was  she,  Naomi  herself, 
where  was  her  mother,  when  Chi  Lung  and  Paul  Marketel 
came  through  the  room.  The  admission  that  they  were 
hiding  behind  the  screen  would  be  extorted,  and  after  that 
— the  inference  to  be  drawn  from  it  ?  " 

She  let  her  arms  fall  helplessly  to  her  sides. 

"  Lady  de  la  Haye — when  did  you  put  your  camera  down 
— after  your  mother  left  you,  or  before?"  was  the  first 
question  Carson  asked. 

"  I  cannot  remember,"  Naomi  answered  dully. 

"  Think,"  urged  Roger,  and  he  turned  on  his  wife,  he 
clutched  her  arm.  "Think,"  he  urged,  "think,  dear! 
Think." 

She  shook  him  ofif  as  if  he  angered  her. 

"  I  can't  think,"  she  protested  vehemently,    "  How  can  I  ? 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  325 

I  get  confused.  Roger,  don't  question  me  any  more.  I 
can't  bear  it." 

She  broke  away  from  him,  but  Roger  followed  as  quickly 
as  she  retreated. 

"  Naomi,"  he  demanded.  "  You  must  know  what  you  did 
with  that  camera.  You  must  remember.  It  is  vital  for  us 
to  know.  If  we  can  trace  that  camera,  if  we  can  find  who 
used  it,  then  we  have  the  thief  and  I  shall  be  cleared.  Do 
you  hear?  "  he  went  on — "  I  shall  be  cleared.  Naomi,"  and 
regardless  of  her  starting  eyes,  of  her  blanched  face,  he 
shook  her  almost  roughly — "  Naomi,  it's  all  in  your  hands. 
For  God's  sake  don't  fail  me !    Think !  " 

She  lifted  her  head,  looked  once  at  the  man  she  loved. 
She  began  to  whimper,  to  moan.  Obviously  she  was  at  the 
last  gasp,  incapable  of  clear  speech,  perhaps  of  connected 
thought.    Amabelle  started  forward. 

''Ma  foi!  this  is  too  much,"  Armand  protested. 

Billy  laid  hold  on  Roger  and  pulled  him  round.  But 
Carson  did  an  odd  thing.  He  pushed  the  chart  aside,  with 
so  decided  a  movement  that  it  slid  off  the  table  on  to  the 
floor.  The  detective  let  it  lie  there.  Evidently  he  con- 
sidered its  use  at  an  end.  He  sat  back  watching — and 
waiting. 

Then  a  single  authoritative  word  was  flung  into  the 
silence. 

"  Peace !  "  commanded  his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi 
Lung.  "  Noble  son  of  a  blessed  father  gone  to  live  in  the 
Happy  Vale  of  Ancestral  Longevity,"  he  said,  turning  to 
Roger,  "  it  is  well  to  be  silent  long,  that  when  speech  comes 
all  may  attend  to  it.  Know  then,"  and  the  old  man  threw 
up  his  head  proudly,  "  that  Chi  Lung  sold  the  memo- 
randum to  the  sheets  of  intelligence." 

"  You !  "  came  from  everyone  present  save  only  Naomi. 

"  You !  "  took  up  Roger — "  you  sold  the  memorandum  to 
Hermann  Strum  ?  " 

"  Even  I,"  affirmed  the  old  man. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  turned  about;  there  was  incredulity  on 
her  face. 


326  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  protested,  "  I  don't  believe " 

"  Even  I,"  declared  the  Chinaman  again,  and  far  from 
being  abashed  he  stared  fixedly  at  the  wife  of  his  most 
valued  friend,  as  if  bidding  her  accept  something;  or  refrain 
from  something. 

For  a  moment  the  weary,  oblique  eyes  held  the  widely 
open  gray  ones.  The  very  attitude  of  these  two,  the  pivots 
of  the  whole  scene,  silenced  the  others.  Instinctively  each 
spectator  realized  that  between  these  two  was  passing  some- 
thing they  could  neither  weigh  nor  fathom. 

Then  Roger  flung  quickly  round. 

"  You  !  "  he  began  to  Chi  Lung.  "  You  !  By  Heaven  ! 
you  called  yourself  my  father's  friend.  My  father  trusted 
you.     You " 

"  When  wrath  speaks  wisdom  veils  her  face,"  the  old  man 
remarked,  and  deliberately,  all  his  air  of  detachment  back 
on  him,  he  stroked  his  beard. 

"  Good  God ! "  muttered  Roger.  This  very  calmness 
exasperated  him,  this  imperturbability  drove  him  nearly 
wild.  He  raised  his  right  arm,  and  held  it  extended. 
"  As  long  as  I  live  I'll  never  trust  a  Chinaman  again,"  he 
swore. 

Chi  Lung  looked  hard  back  at  him.  He  smiled;  as  one 
smiles  indulgently  at  a  foolish  child ;  then  slowly,  deliber- 
ately, he  began  to  shuffle  to  the  door. 

It  was  then  that  Naomi  roused  herself.  The  old  China- 
man had  saved  her  at  the  expense  of  his  own  reputation. 
Her  greatest  enemy  had  taken  her  sin  on  himself.  She 
knew  this  vaguely,  but  she  could  not  grasp  it  in  its  full 
scope.  The  revulsion  was  too  sudden,  too  overpowering. 
Yet,  some  instinct  told  her  that  before  the  old  man  left  the 
room  she  had  something  to  do.  She  could  not  stand  there 
and  just  accept  this  sacrifice.  She  stretched  out  both  her 
hands.  She  tried  to  totter  towards  the  old  man.  He  saw 
the  movement,  the  appeal.  He  answered  it  with  one  quick, 
significant  look.  Then,  having  expressed  himself  voice- 
lessly,  his  Excellenc>  passed  on. 

Naomi  saw  him  go.     It  was  true !  true !  true !  that  this 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  327 

bent  old  man  had  spared  her,  had  saved  her.  She  could  go 
on  as  Roger's  wife  now — she — she — she 

The  room  began  to  whirl  before  her  eyes.  With  a  long, 
inarticulate  cry,  Naomi  fell  to  the  ground. 

Roger  and  Victoria  were  down  by  her  in  a  moment.  Paul 
suggested  smelling  salts,  Billy  rushed  off  shouting  aloud  for 
water,  but  Amabelle  hardly  moved.  She  watched  the  shuf- 
fling figure  leave  the  room.  She  heard  the  door  close  softly 
and,  as  she  stood,  drop  by  drop  the  blood  seemed  to  recede 
from  her  cheeks,  her  lips ;  and  then,  with  a  quick  movement 
as  if  she  were  pushing  that  which  she  would  not  look  on 
from  her,  she  hurried  to  the  window,  threw  it  open,  and 
hastened  out. 

One  other  person  bestowed  his  attention  upon  Chi  Lung 
and  not  on  Naomi.  Carson  watched  the  old  man,  saw  the 
look  he  gave  Roger's  face,  and  the  little  man's  face  softened. 

"  One  never  can  tell  what  an  Oriental  will  do,"  the  astute 
detective  muttered  to  himself,  and  there  was  reverence,  not 
exasperation,  in  his  tone. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

His  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  found  himself 
alone  in  the  Queen  Anne  parlor  which  was  so  intimately 
connected  with  the  one  woman  who  (whether  the  old  man 
admitted  it  or  not)  he  respected,  took  counsel  with,  and 
sometimes  deferred  to. 

It  is  doubtful  if  the  Chinaman,  helped  by  his  national 
habit  of  complacently  demonstrating  that  a  thing  cannot  be, 
and  then  as  complacently  dealing  with  the  same  proposition 
as  one  of  the  accepted  facts  of  life,  was  even  aware  of  his 
equivocal  position. 

Had  he  been  he  would  neither  have  troubled  about  it, 
nor  mar'e  excuses  for  it.  The  Celestials  are  always  amused 
by  that  rigidity  of  the  West  which  goes  under  the  name  of 
consistency.  As  often  as  they  meet  it,  and  it  inconveniences 
them,  they  oppose  to  it  what  a  Sinalogue  calls  "  flexible 
inflexibility,"  and  they  do  it  with  a  bland  smile,  firmly  per- 
suaded of  their  superiority. 

So,  on  this  particular  afternoon,  not  half  an  hour  after 
his  tremendous  admission  in  Roger's  study,  the  spare  old 
man  sat  stiff  and  upright  in  one  of  the  shining,  curved- 
backed  chairs,  with  his  feet  planted  straight  before  him, 
with  his  hands  tucked  into  the  sleeves  of  his  coat,  with  his 
face  turned  upon  the  portrait  of  Sir  Arthur  de  la  Haye 
which  stood  on  the  top  of  the  walnut  writing-bureau. 

To  Chi  Lung  that  portrait  was  the  center  of  the  room,  as 
an  image  is  the  center  of  a  shrine. 

The  odd,  stiff  figure  sat  very  still,  staring  with  unblinking 
eyes  at  the  picture  which  showed  the  clever,  alert  European 
face. 

His  Excellency  sat  in  the  same  attitude  for  quite  a  long 
time.  Then  he  rose,  stretched  out  his  hand  and  waved  it 
in  the  air. 

338 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  329 

He  went  on  with  his  pantomime.  He  made  as  if  he  were 
burning  joss  sticks,  as  if  he  were  setting  alight  the  paper 
substitutes  which,  by  another  odd  turn  of  the  Celestial  mind, 
are  used  to  deceive  the  spirits  of  the  departed  into  thinking 
that  real  offerings  have  been  consumed  on  the  burial-ground, 
and,  having  once  again  bowed  himself  down,  his  Excel- 
lency the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  relapsed  into  his  former  atti- 
tude. 

The  old  man  had  just  done  one  of  those  things  which  not 
only  break  up  a  man's  private  life  but  wreck  his  ofificial 
career  as  well. 

He  had  announced  publicly  that  he  was  guilty  of  a  par- 
ticularly  barefaced  piece  of  double-dealing.  He  had,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  confession,  violated  that  code  of  diplo- 
matic honor  which  Europe  has  laid  down,  and  which  the 
East — willy-nilly — has  been  forced  to  accept.  But  more 
than  that,  he  had  fallen  below  the  standard  of  straight 
dealing  and  commercial  honesty  which  sets  his  own  country 
apart,  among  other  nations  of  the  East,  and,  as  the  China- 
man's own  government  had  been  the  losers  by  the  pre- 
mature publishing  of  the  Chinese  memorandum,  the  obvious 
inference  was  that  the  old  man  had  done  it  for  personal 
gain. 

In  China,  that  country  of  fruitful  contradictions,  the 
private  squeeze  flourishes,  side  by  side  with  the  high  stan- 
dard of  commercial  integrity,  so  that  it  was  not  wholly  out 
of  keeping  with  the  habit  of  that  blue-gowned  race  that  Chi 
Lung  should  have  accepted  a  bribe — say  to  drop  his  memo- 
randum out  of  his  coat  pocket  or  leave  it  on  the  table  for 
ten  minutes. 

But  the  thing  that  his  Excellency — a  mandarin  with  a 
red  button,  the  bearer  of  the  peacock's  feather  and  the 
yellow  jacket — would  have  to  take  into  consideration  was 
that  his  usefulness  in  Europe  was  at  an  end.  Chi  Lung 
had  been  a  power  in  London,  Paris,  Rome,  just  because  (as 
they  said  in  Pekin  of  a  certain  British  administrator)  "  he 
was  a  colossal  honest  devil."  Now,  just  as  Roger  had  re- 
proached the  old  man,  hotly  casting  off  the  esteem,  the 


330  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

friendship,  of  a  lifetime,  just  as  Armand  de  Rochecorbon 
had  stalked  away,  making  no  secret  of  his  attitude,  so  this 
Western  world — both  the  diplomatic  and  financial — would 
pass  the  old  man  by.  He  must  have  realized  that.  One  of 
the  shrewdest  sons  of  a  shrewd  race  could  not  but  be  aware 
of  his  own  position,  and  yet  he  sat  on  in  that  high-backed 
chair  in  the  white  room  as  though  time  didn't  exist,  as 
though  there  were  nothing,  either  past  or  to  come,  to  disturb 
his  equanimity.  The  only  clue  to  his  thoughts  was  the  fact 
that  the  oblique  eyes  never  left  the  photograph  of  Sir 
Arthur  de  la  Haye. 

At  length  the  interruption  which  his  Excellency  had  per- 
haps been  expecting  came  to  pass. 

The  door  opened  hurriedly,  hastily,  and  Naomi  came  into 
the  room.  She  closed  the  door  carefully  and  paused  a 
moment,  timidly,  uncertainly,  half-hoping  that  the  stiff 
figure  in  the  long  frock  coat  would  turn  towards  her  or 
speak — and  then,  as  nothing  happened,  Naomi,  with  down- 
cast eyes  and  dragging  steps  approached  the  immovable 
figure. 

When  she  was  right  in  front  of  him  she  stopped,  and, 
holding  out  a  little  ivory  carving  representing  the  three 
monkeys  of  Discretion,  said  f alteringly : 

"  You  sent  me  this  ?  " 

"  It  is  the  emblem  of  our  wisdom,"  replied  the  old  man. 
"Do  you  know  what  it  means?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"  It  means  silence,"  explained  his  Excellency. 

"  Silence,"  repeated  Naomi.  "  No — no— your  Excellency, 
you  do  not  know " 

"  I  know  all,"  interposed  Chi  Lung,  as  abrupt  as  the  most 
laconic  Englishman  for  once. 

Naomi  shuddered.  She  stood  still.  It  was  growing  very 
gray  in  the  white  room,  the  shadows  were  creeping  out  of 
all  the  corners,  but  there  was  something  more  than  a  mist 
before  Naomi's  eyes,  she  was  stunned— she  felt  as  helpless 
as  a  bird  fluttering  in  a  snare. 
.  "  All,"  she  repeated  at  length.    "  You  know  all  ?  " 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE    '  33 1 

"  Even  so,"  answered  his  Excellency.  "  Hermann  Strum 
spoke  at  my  bidding." 

At  the  mention  of  that  name  the  girl  started  to  tremble. 

"  Ah.  Suppose — suppose  he  comes  back  and  tells 
Roger "  she  gasped  and  her  eyes  widened. 

"  Peace — fool,"  the  old  man  interrupted.  "  Do  I  cut  off 
the  tail  of  a  dog  and  forget  his  head  ?  " 

Naomi  gazed  at  him  uncomprehendingly.  Chi  Lung 
smiled  sardonically,  and  fumbling  in  his  sleeve  he  brought 
out  a  cable  which  he  thrust  into  the  hand  of  Roger's 
wife. 

"  Read,"  he  commanded.  "  Strum  will  not  return. 
Read." 

Naomi  took  the  sheet  with  the  lengths  ot  blue  tape  pasted 
on  to  it,  as  if  she  were  afraid  it  might  burn  her.  She 
neither  glanced  at  the  direction  nor  the  date,  she  only  read 
the  message : 

"  Hermann  Strum  assassinated  in  German  consulate, 
Teheran.    Assassin  unknown." 

The  sheet  fluttered  out  of  her  hand,  and  the  old  China- 
man bent  and  picked  it  up. 

"  Assassin  unknown,"  he  repeated  unctuously.  "  In 
Teheran ;  this  poor  worm  sent  him  there.  His  neck  was  too 
long  for  his  head." 

For  one  moment  relief  flooded  her  being;  she  was  free, 
Hermann  Strum  was  dead ;  but  the  next  minute  she  remem- 
bered that  now  the  fact  of  Hermann  Strum's  death  changed 
nothing.  Her  reason  for  seeking  the  old  Chinaman  was 
still  there. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  began,  "  you  never  liked  me,  you 
were  angry  because  Roger  married  me.  I  can  at  least 
remove  that  cause  of  your  displeasure — I  mean  to  go  away 
— I  do  not  intend  ever  to  see  Roger  again.  But  I  cannot 
tell  him  myself  what  I  have  done,  I  cannot  watch  his  face 
while  he  learns  that  I,  his  wife,  am  to  blame  for  all  he 
has   suffered.     I   have  written   out  a   confession — I   have 


332  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

brought  it  here  with  me  now.  It  completely  clears  you, 
your  Excellency.    Will  you  give  it  to  Roger  yourself  ?  " 

She  held  out  a  letter. 

The  old  man  took  it.  He  held  it  by  one  corner,  between 
his  thumb  and  his  first  finger. 

"  Everything  is  written  here?  "  he  asked. 

"  Everything,"  faltered  Naomi. 

All  at  once  her  trembling  increased,  her  knees  began  to 
knock  together — her  whole  body  to  shake.  She  had  sud- 
denly realized  exactly  what  she  had  done;  she  had  dis- 
possessed herself — she  had  arranged  for  her  own  casting 
forth. 

Again  that  feeling  of  unutterable  loneliness  swept  over 
her. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  ventured,  and  her  voice  had  an 
appeal  in  it  now — perhaps  she  could  make  the  old  man 
understand  why  she  had  acted  as  she  had  done.  "  All  I 
do  now,  I  do  because  I  love  Roger  better  than  myself,  but 
all  I  did  before  was  from  the  same  motive.  I  was  driven 
by  what  I  felt  for  Roger,  by  the  fear  of  losing  all  the  love 
he  was  ready  to  bestow  on  me,  until  I  hardly  knew  right 
from  wrong,  until  I  could  think  of  only  that  one  thing. 
I  photographed  the  Chinese  memorandum  because  Roger 
was  more  than  anything  or  anyone  in  this  world  to  me. 
That  was  my  sole,  my  only  reason.  It  seemed  the  only 
way  to  keep  him — I  could  not  lose  him." 

Her  voice  broke,  and  through  her  tears  she  looked  ait  the 
expressionless  face.  She  saw  no  sign  of  understanding 
there.  Still  she  waited,  her  eyes  on  the  cold,  almost  life- 
less mask.  She  seemed  unaware  that  tears  were  coursing 
unheeded  down  her  cheeks.  She  waited  for  a  word — a  word 
of  understanding,  and  it  came  in  the  shape  she  least 
expected. 

Deliberately — that  there  might  be  no  mistake  about  the 
purpose  of  the  action — his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung 
tore  the  envelope  in  two. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  exclaimed  Naomi.  "Why  are 
you  doing  that  ?  "  and  she  would  have  stopped  him,  but  he 
pushed  her  aside. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  333 

"  Justice  demands  but  one  culprit,"  the  old  man  declared. 
"  Chi  Lung  has  provided." 

"  But,"  Naomi  stammered,  "  it  is  I  who  am  guilty.  I 
must  bear  my  own  punishment.  Why  should  you  suffer  for 
me?" 

"  For  you  ?  "  retorted  Chi  Lung.  He  folded  his  hands  and 
laughed  slowly,  contemptuously.  Again  he  conveyed  an 
intimation  of  the  gulf  that,  in  his  opinion,  existed  between 
himself  and  this  woman. 

Naomi  had  once  heard  more  of  a  scene  between  her 
mother  and  a  man  driven  to  plain  speaking  than  was  good 
for  the  ears  of  any  daughter.  Neither  the  anger  nor  the 
contempt  had  been  lost  on  her,  but  there  was  this  difference 
between  that  man's  upbraiding  and  Chi  Lung's  laughter. 
All  through  the  stream  of  bitterness  ran  the  implication 
that  Mrs.  Melsham  had  fallen  below  the  level  expected  of 
her  sex,  whereas,  here,  the  Chinaman  seemed  to  be  telling 
Naomi  that  for  once  a  white  woman  stripped  of  her  trap- 
pings, stripped  of  the  protection  and  the  glamor  that  the 
cult  of  many  centuries  had  wrapped  about  her,  was  but 
reverting  to  type,  was  but  behaving  as  he  expected  a  mere 
woman  to  behave. 

"  Do  you  think,"  the  old  man  demanded  presently,  "  that 
my  tongue  would  trouble  itself  to  say  weighty  words  for 
such  as  you?  Did  you  dream,  in  your  foolish  presumption, 
that  I  would  invent  riddles  to  turn  men's  minds  away  from 
you?" 

Naomi  shrank  away  from  him — how  he  hated  her! 

"  To  me  you  are  as  worthless  as  a  cracked  pot  on  a 
refuse  heap,  but  to  Roger  you  are  a  Pearl  of  Price.  All 
barbarians  are  mad ;  even  Roger,  whom  I  love  as  if  he 
were  my  own  son,  has  not  escaped  this  scourge  of  foolish- 
ness. In  our  land  'tis  but  a  mad  dog  that  runs  after  its 
own  tail ;  here,  man  in  his  folly  runs  after  his  lesser  half — 
a  woman.  It  pleases  Roger  to  call  you  by  his  honorable 
name,  therefore  you  must  be  spared  to  him.  I  came  with 
rejoicing  (for  my  hour  had  come),  to  lay  you  low,  but 
behold,  to  lop  off  the  head  of   the   Lily   Flower  on  the 


334  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Temple  Pond  would  break  the  heart  of  the  Temple  Keeper." 

A  little  glow  of  feeling  came  back  into  her  heart,  she 
could  understand  such  self-immolation,  and  because  a  veil 
was  temporarily  thrust  between  her  consciousness  and  her 
fall  a  flicker  of  courage  came  back  to  her. 

"  I  understand,"  she  returned,  speaking  slowly,  steadily ; 
"  you  thought  of  Roger  first — you  hoped  in  that  way  to  give 
him  peace  of  mind.    It  was  noble  of  you,  and  I  thank  you." 

"  You,"  thrust  in  the  Chinaman. 

Naomi  gave  the  old  man  no  time  for  another  word. 

"  But  I  cannot  let  Roger  think  you  guilty,"  she  went  on 
steadily. 

"  A  wrong  was  done,  a  wrong  has  been  righted,"  retorted 
Chi  Lung  loftily — "  that  is  enough." 

"  That  is  not  enough,"  Naomi  persisted.  "  I  must  bear 
the  weight  of  my  own  sin, — I  must  take  my  punishment 
openly." 

"  And  hurt  Roger  ten  times  more  than  he  was  hurt  be- 
fore !  "  the  old  man  exclaimed. 

Naomi  winced.  It  was  precisely  this  reflection  which  had 
sealed  her  lips  ever  since  she  returned  from  Italy. 

"  In  this  land  of  foolishness,"  Chi  Lung  went  on,  "  a 
man  may  be  undone  by  the  levity  of  his  own  home,  and  he 
may  not  even  use  the  sack  or  the  rope  to  purge  himself  of 
the  cause  of  the  offense." 

Naomi  dropped  her  head.  That  was  true  also.  Had  she 
not  thought  it  all  out  herself  on  that  train  journey  to  Aix? 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  she  wailed. 

The  old  Chinaman  told  her  in  a  very  few  words. 

"  If  you  love  yourself  better  than  Roger,"  he  said  to  her — 
"  speak.  If  you  love  Roger  better  than  yourself — keep 
silence." 

Naomi  let  her  arms  fall  to  her  side.  The  old  man  had 
put  the  case  as  it  really  was.  The  few,  pregnant  words, 
to  be  sure,  contravened  one  of  the  first  articles  of  the  ac- 
cepted ethical  code  of  the  West — confession  takes  prece- 
dence there — but  is  there  ever  a  rule  without  exceptions? 
Besides,  current  formulae  are  evolved  for  the  multitude,  and 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  335 

the  many  must  of  necessity  be  commonplace.  Whatever 
else  it  might  or  might  not  have  been,  Naomi's  sin  had  come 
out  of  something  large,  something  overpowering,  and  ,the 
consequences  it  entailed  were  of  the  same  magnitude.  The 
payment  for  it  (for  wrongdoing  is  a  debtor  who  exacts 
cash  down)  must  be  on  the  same  scale. 

Something  of  this — not  formulated,  of  course,  in  any 
neat  or  cut  terms — hurried  through  Naomi's  mind.  She 
saw,  if  she  accepted  this  decision,  what  was  before  her. 

"  To  live  a  lie  all  my  life,"  she  whispered,  "  to  take  what 
is  not  my  due  ...  to  allow  another  to  suffer  for  that 
which  I  have  done.   ...   I  can't  do  it." 

Again,  it  seemed  to  her  she  could  not  pay  the  price,  and 
then  Roger's  face  rose  before  her  and  her  love  welled  up 
anew  and  her  courage  came  back  to  her.  She  knew  it 
would  not  be  a  small  thing  she  undertook,  she  foresaw  the 
daily,  hourly  crucifixion  which  she  would  be  called  upon  to 
endure  for  many  years  to  come,  perhaps  for  the  rest  of  her 
life.  She  raised  her  head  to  speak,  but  before  she  could 
say  anything  Chi  Lung's  outstretched  hand  pointed  to  the 
door.  She  was  not  even  to  give  her  decision  in  words — it 
was  taken  for  granted. 

Humbled  to  the  dust,  suffering  both  physically  and  men- 
tally, she  groped  her  way  to  the  door. 

When  she  had  gone  Chi  Lung  went  up  to  the  table.  He 
took  up  Sir  Arthur's  picture,  lifted  it  as  though  he  were 
performing  a  rite,  then  setting  it  back  he  bowed  before  it 
once,  until  his  lean  old  frame  was  almost  bent  double. 

Amabelle  had  spent  the  last  hour  pacing  up  and  down  the 
terrace.  Her  amazement  had  given  way  to  conjecture.  She 
could  not  believe  that  any  bribe  would  have  made  Chi  Lung 
sacrifice  the  fruits  of  a  lifetime's  work.  Besides,  she  had 
had  such  faith  in  him  and  his  devotion  for  all  the  members 
of  her  family — at  least  for  all  except  Naomi ;  he  had  never 
included  her  in  the  family  and  of  late  the  enmity  had  be- 
come more  marked.  That  scene  on  his  arrival  at  Zouche 
came  back  to  her;  it  had  been  strange;  the  girl  had  ob- 


336  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

viously  been  afraid,  and  she  was  not  nervous  by  nature. 
The  old  man  had  been  insolent,  insulting.  Had  his  veiled 
allusions  meant  anything?  Many  little  incidents  unnoticed 
at  the  time  now  came  back  to  her  with  a  new  meaning. 
Finally  she  came  to  the  scene  that  had  just  taken  place. 
There  had  seemed  no  doubt  to  the  onlookers  that  Naomi 
knew  more  than  she  would  say,  everybody  had  felt  it ;  the 
tension  had  become  almost  unbearable  when  Chi  Lung  had 
so  unexpectedly  stepped  in  with  his  avowal. 

Was  Naomi  guilty?  and  did  he  know  it?  Could  she  be? 
And  if  so  why  should  the  old  man  save  the  girl  whom  he 
hated?  Why  should  he  sacrifice  himself?  The  idea  was 
preposterous.  Amabelle  repeated  to  herself  that  it  was  fan- 
tastic, absurd,  that  it  was  out  of  all  keeping  with  the  Celes- 
tial habits  of  conduct ;  and  yet — the  doubt  that  had  been 
insinuating  itself  into  her  mind  all  this  day  was  not  removed. 
It  worked,  enlarged,  and  persisted.  It  presented  first  this 
trifle  to  her,  and  then  that. 

In  her  perplexity  Amabelle  stood  still  just  outside  the 
French  windows  of  the  Queen  Anne  parlor,  raised  her  head, 
and  unconsciously  looked  into  the  room.  In  a  flash  she  had 
her  answer.  She  saw  her  old  friend  dismiss  her  daughter- 
in-law.  She  saw  the  continuity  of  the  action.  Her  hand 
was  on  the  latch  of  the  window,  her  breath  was  coming 
more  quickly.  She  was  so  amazed,  and  then  the  old  man 
turned  and  bent  low  before  her  husband's  picture.  In  a 
flash  Amabelle  de  la  Haye  understood.  Chi  Lung  was  inno- 
cent. Naomi  was  guilty,  but  the  Chinaman  had  saved 
Naomi  for  Roger's  sake.  At  last,  after  all  these  years  of 
waiting,  he  had  paid  his  debt  of  gratitude.  She  pushed  open 
the  window  and  hurried  into  the  room. 

"  Your  Excellency  !  "  she  exclaimed.  "  What  have  you 
done?" 

The  old  man  put  up  his  hand. 

"  There  is  a  time  for  speech — there  is  a  time  for  silence," 
he  told  her.  "  But  silence  is  of  the  gods,  only  monkeys 
chatter." 

Though  she  had  been  sure  that  it  was  so,  Chi  Lung's 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  337 

direct  avowal  seemed  to  bring  home  to  Amabelle  all  the 
enormity  of  the  offense.  It  was  intolerable  that  anyone 
connected  with  Roger,  and  indirectly  with  Roger's  father, 
could  have  done  such  a  thing. 

Chi  Lung  saw  the  sudden  flush,  the  curve  of  the  lips,  the 
flash  in  the  eyes  which  habitually  shone  with  such  a  gentle 
light.  He  saw  that  his  sacrifice  might  be  rendered  useless 
unless  he  could  succeed  in  making  his  dead  friend's  wife 
see  with  his  eyes. 

"  The  mother  spoke  honey  of  the  son's  wife,"  he  said 
softly. 

Amabelle  was  silent. 

"  The  mother-in-law  pointed  out  to  this  worthless  one  that 
Roger's  wife  was  as  dear  to  him  as  his  own  life." 

The  white-haired  woman  raised  her  head.  Her  lips  half 
opened,  it  was  evident  she  was  about  to  dissent,  perhaps  to 
protest,  as  Naomi  had  protested. 

"  You  and  I  spoke  the  same  words,"  the  old  man  went  on 
smoothly,  evidently  anticipating  her.  "  They  came  out  of 
your  mouth  and  I  said  them  again,  but  they  had  a  twin 
birth,  for  they  were  born  in  my  heart  as  well  as  in  yours. 
Your  honorable  voice  made  protest  that  you  would  give 
Roger  all  you  had,  and  my  poor  tongue  formed  just  the 
same  speech — '  all  we  had.'  " 

Amabelle  stood  motionless.  She  had  but  a  moment  in 
which  to  determine  what  she  must  do.  Chi  Lung  had  evi- 
dently secured  Naomi's  silence,  he  was  asking  her  for  hers 
too.  She  had  to  determine  whether  she  would  acquiesce  or 
denounce,  but  if  she  chose  the  former  she  must  do  much 
more  than  merely  accept.  Her  conduct  to  Naomi  must  be 
generous,  not  grudging.  She  must  not  only  tolerate,  she 
must  forgive.  There  must  be  no  magnanimous  superiority 
in  her  mind,  there  must  be  that  great  understanding  which 
is  a  bond  in  itself. 

A  less  large-minded  woman  would  have  chosen  the  ac- 
cepted course  and  plumed  herself  on  her  righteous  conduct, 
for  the  narrow-minded  always  seem  in  such  a  hurry  for  the 
Day  of  Judgment  that  they  must  needs  anticipate  it,  but  to 


338  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

Amabelle  one  thing  was  clear — it  behooved  her  to  follow- 
in  Chi  Lung's  footsteps. 

With  her  fine  knowledge  of  what  would  be  most  ac- 
ceptable to  the  Oriental,  she  made  the  decision  which  would 
affect  her  whole  life  without  even  alluding  to  it  directly. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  yourself,  your  Excellency?  " 
she  asked. 

"  Is  not  the  sum  of  my  labors  accomplished  ?  "  the  old 
man  answered.     "  I  leave  for  Pekin  tonight." 

"  But,"  she  interposed  solicitously,  "  will  you  be  safe 
there  ?  "  The  old  man  smiled  unconcernedly.  When  he  had 
parted  with  so  much,  what  mattered  one  breath,  more  or 
less,  drawn  out  of  a  body  that  ultimately  must  return  to 
Mother  Earth  ? 

"  The  old  Buddha  is  wise,"  he  said  (referring  to  the 
Dowager  Empress  reigning  at  this  time,  by  the  name  which 
those  who  saw  her  most  pleasing  side  bestowed  on  her). 

Then  as  if  to  counterbalance  praise  bestowed  on  a  woman, 
he  added  in  his  usual  manner : 

"  The  gods  are  drunk,  sometimes  they  put  the  brains  of  a 
man  into  the  head  of  a  woman." 

The  jibe  seemed  to  put  an  end  to  the  discussion.  Chi 
Lung  turned  away  and  left  Amabelle.  He  pulled  an  arm- 
chair to  the  fire  and  sat  down  on  it,  with  his  back  to  the 
room. 

Lady  de  la  Haye  knew  that  she  was  expected  to  go  away, 
and  never  to  open  the  subject  again. 

She  went  towards  the  door,  but,  with  her  arm  outstretched 
to  open  it,  she  looked  back,  and  suddenly  felt  she  could  not 
leave  him  thus. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  she  persisted,  as  she  hurried  up  to 
him.  "  You  and  I  cannot  part  like  this.  I  understand,  and 
I  have  come  back  to  lay  my  gratitude  at  your  feet." 

The  old  man  rose.  He  put  out  his  thin  hand.  He  held 
hers. 

"  The  gift,"  he  said,  "  warms  my  old  heart — but  it  is  a 
gift.    The  obligation  to  repay  belonged  to  this  poor  worm." 

He  looked  at  Roger's  mother  for  a  long  minute. 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  339 

"  There  will  be  flowers  in  Roger's  path,"  he  said. 

"  What  you  wish  me  to  do,  I  shall  do,"  Amabelle 
answered.  "  All  will  be  well  with  him,  your  Excellency — 
but— for  her  ?  " 

"  Peace,"  interposed  the  old  man,  "  all  will  be  well  for  her 
too — out  of  the  twilight  has  blossomed  a  flower — the  flower 
of  sacrifice  for  another.    Cherish  it." 

Lady  de  la  Haye  bowed  her  head.  She  accepted  the  trust 
as  Naomi  had  accepted  the  burden. 

Before  another  word  could  be  said  by  either,  Paul 
Marketel  entered  the  room.  He  came  to  seek  Lady  de  la 
Haye ;  he  wanted,  if  possible,  to  discuss  with  her  the 
extraordinary  scene  which  had  taken  place  in  the  Chinese 
Room.  At  the  sight  of  Chi  Lung  and  Lady  de  la  Haye  he 
drew  back,  he  looked  from  one  to  the  other  in  astonish- 
ment. He  too  had  seen  things  during  the  scene  in  the 
Chinese  writing-room  that  had  amazed  him ;  no  man  of 
his  acumen  could  have  missed  them — and  now,  there  was 
this  collusion,  this  friendliness  between  the  very  two  who, 
if  things  had  been  as  they  seemed  to  be,  should  have  been 
separated  by  scorn,  by  enmity. 

"  I  do  not  understand — ■ — "  he  blurted  out. 

The  old  Chinaman  rose.  He  pattered  up  to  the  big 
man. 

"  When  youth  takes  a  scorpion  for  his  bedfellow,"  his 
Excellency  remarked,  "  then  the  aged  go  out  on  the  roof." 

The  speech  left  Paul  even  more  perplexed  than  before — 
or  rather  he  was  growing  still  more  sure,  but  the  certainty 
was  so  strange  he  could  not  admit  it.  Slowly  his  eyes  came 
back  to  Lady  de  la  Haye.  He  found  her  glance  awaiting 
him, 

"  Paul,"  said  the  white-haired  woman  softly,  "  you  are 
an  old-  friend — his  Excellency  is  a  still  older  friend." 

Paul  Marketel  understood.  A  curtain  had  been  lifted,  a 
curtain  had  been  lowered.  This  was  not  a  thing  to  talk 
about ;  it  was  a  thing  to  accept. 

The  decisions  of  Fate  come  out  of  the  Unknown,  and  the 
wise  bow  before  them — only  the  puny  protest. 


340  THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE 

An  hour  later  Paul  Marketel,  driving  his  own  car,  with 
his  Excellency  the  Marquis  Chi  Lung  seated  beside  him, 
passed  along  the  road  from  Zouche  to  London.  The  finan- 
cier had  proposed  that  he  should  leave  Victoria  at  Zouche 
for  a  few  days  and  drive  tlte  old  man  back,  and  Amabelle 
had  gratefully  accepted  his  suggestion. 

The  day  was  ending  with  a  glory  which  had  been  denied 
to  its  hours  of  light,  for  the  sky  in  the  west  was  suffused 
with  a  glow  of  vivid  rose  and  carmine.  The  crimson 
brightness  seemed  to  struggle  with  the  darkness  and  en- 
deavor to  drive  it  back.  It  mingled  with  the  purple  veil 
of  night  and  turned  it  into  a  haze  shaded  from  red  to 
orange. 

Every  object,  as  the  car  raced  along,  was  touched  by  this 
light,  was  warmed  by  it.  It  was  as  if  a  great  fire  burned 
below  the  horizon  and  its  glow  shot  up  high  into  the  heavens, 
save  that  here  there  was  nothing  fierce  or  cruel.  It  seemed 
to  speak  of  warmth  without  destruction,  of  a  great  bright- 
ness that  would  not  consume. 

To  Paul,  who,  though  a  man  of  business,  was  intensely 
sensitive  to  all  things  beautiful,  the  gorgeous  sunset,  the 
dark  patches  between  the  trees  through  which  the  white 
cottages — whose  lighted  windows  made  spots  of  brightness 
in  the  gathering  dusk — seemed  havens  of  peace,  and  the 
distant  murmur  of  cheerful  human  voices  conveyed  a  mes- 
sage of  hope  and  happiness. 

They  sat  in  silence,  side  by  side,  he  and  the  disgraced 
Chinese  diplomat,  until  they  came  upon  one  of  those  bon- 
fires that  flame  in  the  fields  in  autumn.  The  leaping  tongues 
of  flame  roused  Chi  Lung.  He  turned  to  Paul,  and  touched 
him  on  the  sleeve : 

"  May  there  be  length  of  days  in  your  honorable  house," 
he  said,  apparently  inconsequently. 

Marketel  looked  round  quickly,  but  the  old  man  had 
already  resumed  his  original  attitude.  He  was  again  sit- 
ting upright,  with  his  hands  tucked  into  his  sleeves. 

The  field  fire  had  been  left  miles  behind,  the  light  had 
faded  in  the  west,  the  night  had  dropped  its  pall  of  dark- 


THE  CHINESE  PUZZLE  341 

ness  over  tree  and  earth,  when  Chi  Lung  next  found  his 
voice : 

"  O  Man  of  Many  Ingots  of  Gold  and  Silver,"  he  said 
slowly,  "  this  poor  worm  would  have  liked  to  raise  his 
despicable  eyes  to  the  majestic  countenance  of  your  honor- 
able father." 

Paul  turned  suddenly  and  stooped  towards  the  spare  old 
man. 

"  Your  Excellency,"  he  said,  as  a  son  might  speak  to  his 
father,  "  it  grows  colder — your  cape  ought  to  be  fastened 
round  your  throat." 

And,  speaking  thus,  he  put  out  one  hand,  and  very  gently 
brought  the  worn  old  cape  close  up  under  the  old  man's  chin. 


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BY   ROMAIN    ROLLAND 

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WHILE  THERE'S   LIFE       by  elinor  mordaunt 

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BY    THOMAS  BURKE 
NIGHTS  IN  LONDON  OUT  AND  ABOUT  LONDON 

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charm.  Each  page  is  steeped  in 
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YOU'RE  ONLY  YOUNG  ONCE 

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POETRY 

FACTORIES,  AND  OTHER  POEMS 

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THE  OLD  ROAD  TO  PARADISE 
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JEAN-CHRISTOPHE 

By  ROMAIN  ROLLAND 

Translated  from  the  French  by  Gilbert  Cannan.  In 
three  volumes,  each  $2. 00. 

This  great  trilogy,  the  hfe  story  of  a  musician,  at  first 
the  sensation  of  musical  circles  in  Paris,  has  come  to  be  one 
of  the  most  discussed  books  among  literary  circles  in  France, 
England  and  America. 

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comes  to  a  definite  conclusion. 

The  three  volumes  with  the  titles  of  the  French  volumes 
included  arc: 

JEAN-CHRISTOPHE 

Dawn — Morning — Youth — Revolt 

JEAN-CHRISTOPHE  IN  PARIS 

The  Market  Place — Antoinette — The  House 

JEAN-CHRISTOPHE:  JOURNEY'S  END 

Ijove,    and    Friendship — The    Burning    Bush — The    New 

Dawn 

Some  Noteworthy  Comments 

"  'Hats  off,  gentlemen — a  genius.'  .  One  may  mention  'Jean-Chris- 
tophe'  in  the  same  breath  with  Balzac's  'Lost  Illusions';  it  is  as  big 
as  that.  .  It  is  moderate  praise  to  call  it  with  Edmund  Gosse  'the 
noblest  work  of  fiction  of  the  twentieth  century.'  .  _  A  book  as 
big,  as  elemental,  as  original  as  though  the  art  of  fiction  began  to- 
day. .  We  have  nothing  comparable  in  English  literature.  .  ' — 
Springfield  Republican, 

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up  the  great,  changing  sea  of  modern  life,  there  is  hardly  a  single 
book  more  illustrative,  more  informing  and  more  inspiring." — Current 
Opinion, 

"Must  rank  as  one  of  the  very  few  important  works  of  fiction  of  the 
last  decade.  A  vital  compelling  work.  We  who  love  it  feel  that  it 
will  live." — Independent. 

"The  most  momentous  novel  that  has  come  to  us  from  France,  or 
from  any   other   European   country,   in   a   decade." — Boston    Transcript, 

A  32-page  booklet  about  Romain  Rolland  and  Jean-Chris- 
tophe,  with  portraits  and  complete  reviews,  on  request. 

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BY       BARRETT        H.        CLARK 

THE  CONTINENTAL  DRAMA  OF  TO-DAY 

Outlines  for  Its  Study 
Suggestions,  questions,  biographies,  and  bibliographies 
with  outlines,  of  half  a  dozen  pages  or  less  each,  of  the 
more  important  plays  of  twenty-four  Continental  dram- 
atists. While  intended  to  be  used  in  connection  with  a 
reading  of  the  plays  themselves,  the  book  has  an  inde- 
pendent interest.    12mo.     $1.75  net. 

Prof.  IVilliam  Lyon  Phelps,  of  Yale:  ".  .  .  One  of  the  most 
useful  works  on  the  contemporary  drama.  .  .  .  Extremely  prac- 
tical, full  of  valuable  hints  and  suggestions.  .  .  ." 

BRITISH  £5f  AMERICAN  DRAMA  OF  TO-DAY 

Outlines  for  Its  Study 
Suggestions,  biographies  and  bibliographies,  together 
with  historical  sketches,  for  use  in  connection  with  the 
important  plays  of  Pinero,  Jones,  Wilde,  Shaw,  Barker, 
Hankin,  Chambers,  Davies,  Galsworthy,  Masefield, 
Houghton,  Bennett,  Phillips,  Barrie,  Yeats,  Boyle,  Baker, 
Sowerby,  Francis,  Lady  Gregory,  Synge,  Murray,  Ervine, 
Howard,  Heme,  Thomas,  Gillette,  Fitch,  Moody, 
Mackaye,  Sheldon,  Kenyon,  Walters,  Cohan,  etc.  i2mo. 
$1.75  net. 

THREE  MODERN  PLAYS  FROM  THE  FRENCH 

Lemaitre's  The  Pardon  and  Lavedan's  Prince  D'Aurec, 
translated  by  Barrett  H.  Clark,  with  Donnay's  The 
Other  Danger,  translated  by  Charlotte  Tenney  David, 
with  an  Introduction  to  each  author  by  Barrett  H.  Clark 
and  a  Preface  by  Clayton  Hamilton.  One  volume. 
12mo.     $7.75  net. 

Springfield  Republican:  "'The  Prince  d'Aurec'  is  one  of  his 
best  and  most  representative  plays.  It  is  a  fine  character  crea- 
tion. .  .  .  'The  Pardon'  must  draw  admiration  for  its  remark- 
able technical  efficiency.  .  .  .  'The  Other  Danger'  is  a  work 
of  remarkable  craftsmanship." 

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BY 

CONSTANCE  D'ARCY  MACKAY 

THE  LITTLE  THEATRE  IN  THE 
UNITED  STATES 
Illustrated.   With  index.   Large  12mo.   $2.00 
net. 

COSTUMES   AND    SCENERY   FOR 
AMATEURS 

With     numerous     illustrations     and     index. 
Large  12mo.    $1.75  net. 

HOW  TO  PRODUCE  CHILDREN'S 

PLAYS 
12mo.    $1.30  net. 

PATRIOTIC  DRAMA  IN  YOUR  TOWN 
12mo.    $1.35  net. 


PLAYS 

THE  BEAU  OF  BATH  and  Five  Other 
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illustrations  after  Reynolds,  Humphrey  and 
Romney.     12mo.     $1.30  net. 

THE  FOREST  PRINCESS  and  Five  Other 
Masques 
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Masques  and  Music  for  Masques,  etc.     12mo. 
$1.35  net. 

PATRIOTIC  PLAYS  AND  PAGEANTS 

The  Pageant  of  Patriotism  and  The  Haw- 
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and  for  indoor  performance,  and  so  that  they 
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THE  HOUSE  OF  THE  HEART 
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fourteen  or  younger.     16mo.     $1.20  net. 

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folk.     16mo.     $1.20  net. 

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The  Third  Edition,  Revised  and  Enlarged,  of 

THE   HOME   BOOK   OF  VERSE 

COMPILED    BY 

BURTON  E.  STEVENSON 

has  been  revised  from  end  to  end — 590  poems  have  been 
added,  pages  renumbered,  author,  title,  and  first  line  in- 
dices, and  the  biographical  matter  corrected,  etc.,  etc. 

The  hundreds  of  letters  from  readers  and  poets  suggest- 
ing additions  or  corrections  as  well  as  the  columns  of 
reviews  of  the  first  edition  have  been  considered.  Poets 
who  were  chary  of  lending  their  support  to  an  unknown 
venture  have  now  generously  permitted  the  use  of  their 
work. 

This  edition  includes  the  "new"  poets  such  as  Mase- 
FiELD,  Chesterton,  Frost,  Rupert  Brooke,  de  la 
Mare,  Ralph  Hodgson,  etc. 

"A  collection  so  complete  and  distinguished  tliat  it  Is 
difficult  to  find  any  other  approaching  it  sufficiently  for 
comparison." — Neio  York  Times  Book  Re'vieio  on  the 
first  edition. 

India  Paper,  4,096  pages 

Cloth,  one  volume,  $12.50  net. 

Cloth,  two  volumes,  $16. 00  net. 

Half  Morocco,  one  volume,  $15. 00  net. 

Half  Morocco,  two  volumes,  $25.00  net. 

HENRY    HOLT    AND    COMPANY 

publishers  new  YORK 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 

Los  Angeles 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


OlSCHARGE-UHi 
fiCT  3  1 1982 


llb/b 


m  L9-Series4939 


3   1158  00041    3210 


PR 

6003 

B672c 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


AA    000  372  747 


